


The Bodyguard

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, College!Tony, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Marine Gibbs, Past and Present, Road Trip, Romance, Season 8, Youthful Tony, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: Tony's in college when his father, with no explanation, arranges for a gruff Marine to drive him to New York. Tony rebels at first, but the prospect of a road trip is appealing, and he senses there's more than meets the eye to Gibbs. Their friendship develops into something more as the years progress. This story spans 1991-2011, and alternates between Tony's college years and the NCIS years. Tony/Gibbs relationship in present time, around Season 8.





	1. Hitting the Road

**Author's Note:**

> August 2016. After not wrapping this story up for years, I revised the last 2 chapters and have concluded it. Now complete!
> 
> Note on GEN version ("Road Trip"): I took the chapters that cover Tony in college and edited them into a 6-chapter Gen story for an Ancient's Gate fanzine. That story is posted here and at Fanfiction under the title "Road Trip."

For some reason I never posted this here. It took me a while to get back to it (even though there were only a couple of chapters left), but I did wrap it up a year ago, so it is complete. I'm not going through it prior to posting, otherwise I'd probably re-write it or something, and never get it posted.

 

**The Bodyguard**

**Chapter 1 - Hitting the Road**

_Thomas Magnum: Why did I quit the Navy? It wasn't anything earth shattering. I woke up one day, age 33, and realized I'd never been 23._

  

_May, 1991, Columbus, Ohio_

 

The gray-haired man walked right into Tony's rundown one-room apartment as if he owned the place and said curtly, "Call me Gibbs."

 

Tony looked him up and down, knowing that his slow perusal bordered on being insolent, but he really didn't care. After all, even if the apartment was a dump, it was _his_ dump and this guy was an intruder. The only reason Tony had even opened the door was because he'd received a brief call from Colonel Hargrave's office, warning him of Gibbs' impending visit. Tony hadn't had time to find out what it was all about when Gibbs had showed up, stony-faced and commanding.

 

At first, Tony found nothing to like about Mr. 'call me Gibbs.' For starters, he was old. He had to be pushing forty from the looks of his cropped gray hair, and there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that had obviously not been put there by smiling. His clothes were nondescript, right out of the Sears catalog, but even without a uniform, Gibbs had a look about him that clearly indicated he'd recently stepped out of a war zone. Hell, the dude was wound up tight, like he was itching for some hand-to-hand combat; probably had an automatic stuck in the small of his back and a knife hidden behind his belt buckle. The slight limp he had looked like it might be his knee. Wounded in combat? Tony couldn’t decide whether Gibbs was a commando or a Marine, but either way, his presence was not welcome.

 

A closer look revealed that despite Gibbs' military appearance there was something to appreciate, namely his eyes. They were a piercing blue in his tanned face, clear and intelligent, and when Tony looked really hard he thought he could see a touch of wry humor buried deep beneath the icy cold glare that, at the moment, was targeted upon him. Even if the way Gibbs was eyeballing him was a bit disconcerting, Tony stood his ground. He raised his chin and drew himself up to his full height to show that he wasn't afraid, and wasn't about to back down.

 

Gibbs' smirk, as he pulled out his cell phone and placed a call, told Tony that Gibbs saw right through him. "Colonel? Yes, sir. Got him in my sights," Gibbs said, seemingly amused by whatever he was hearing. "Yeah, I can see that." Gibbs never took his eyes off Tony during the entire time he was on the phone, and it took all of Tony's self-control not to fidget,

 

Tony did not like that Gibbs was talking about him with the colonel, though Col. Hargrave had always been strict but fair when he'd been Tony's teacher at the Rhode Island Military Academy. Tony remembered the way Hargrave was fond of quoting Hannibal: "We will either find a way or make one."

 

Sometimes, when things became difficult, like when his dad predicted that Tony would fail miserably without his help and would come running home with his tail between his legs, Tony would remember those words. Nobody could tell him that something was impossible, that it couldn't be done. He'd find another way, create a new set of circumstances, think outside the damned box. Tony figured that if he didn't succeed, it wouldn't be for want of trying.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

The important thing about life, according to Tony's father, was taking control and keeping it, and that applied to everything, including his own son. Tony had been trying to break ties with his father for a while now, but up until the day he left for college he hadn't had much success. Every time he'd thought he was about to get out from under Senior's thumb, and was right on the verge of escaping, good old dad would reel him right back in like a fish on a line. Tony would be the first to admit that it was usually about money, though their fights, some of them physical, were about other things as well. Senior berated Tony for his irresponsible behavior; criticized Tony for having his head in the clouds; insisted that his son put away his silly dreams and plan on majoring in business. Tony could take all of that, but what he hated the most was when things got really heated, Senior would ask God why Mom had to be the one to die in the car crash.

 

DiNozzo Sr. had barely spoken to his son ever since their big blow-up over Tony's decision to accept Ohio State over a college of his father's choosing. Tony had felt such pride upon receiving a sports scholarship, knowing that all of his hard work had finally paid off, that he threw his achievement in his father's face. It had almost been worth getting the back of his hand to see his dad lose his cool when Tony announced he was going to be a Buckeye.

 

Telling his dad that he could shove it and then walking (okay, he'd sort of limped) out the door had been one of the most satisfying things Tony had ever done, and just about the scariest, too. His biggest regret was that he'd had to leave his collection of Magnum videos behind along with the rest of his belongings.

 

It took a while, over a year, but eventually they were back on speaking terms. Tony figured this was a concession his dad made only so he'd be able to hand out advice. Dad was good at that, telling people what to do, disregarding that they usually didn't want it. On the rare occasion that Senior had talked to Tony since he'd headed to college, it had always been by phone. To date, Senior hadn't shown his face at any of the school functions, nor at any of Tony's games. In fact, Tony wasn't sure that his dad even knew where Ohio was on the map.

 

He'd had been doing pretty well on his own; his grades were good, his social life and sports – and more sports – kept him busy, and he'd had been able to scrape together enough funds to sublet a place of his own place for the summer. Once fall came around, he'd be back in a dorm on campus as a junior. The Alpha Chi Delta frat house had a waiting list a mile long due to its popularity, and Tony didn't expect to get a room there for a while. Some of the frat brothers never got the chance to move in, although they did share the same fraternity privileges.

 

Tony might be eating little else but soup and noodles, and cadging meals wherever he could, but he was having a damned good time just the same. Now he'd made it through his sophomore year, he had a good job lined up at a big health and sports center for the summer. Of course he hoped to leave a little time in his schedule for fun, and had already secured an open-ended invitation to a frat brother's vacation place on a nearby lake.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Now, out of the blue, this guy Gibbs appears on his doorstep, with an attitude that clearly said 'his way or no way.' Only Tony DiNozzo was not about to take orders from this man, or from anyone else, for that matter. Nobody was going to ruin his plans, not his father or his hired help.

 

As soon as he finished talking to Hargrave, Gibbs dialed another number. He spent a couple of minutes listening, making short responses that were no more than neutral grunts, which Tony would bet was annoying the hell out of whoever was on the other end of the line. After a while, Gibbs held out the phone to Tony and said, "Your father. He wants to talk to you."

 

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands into his armpits. "So what?" He was getting really pissed about everyone – especially this Gibbs guy – telling him what to do, and not even bothering to explain what the hell was going on.

 

Gibbs' eyes narrowed a little and next thing Tony knew, there was a swat to the back of his head and he found himself clutching the phone in one sweaty hand. Tony glared at Gibbs and rubbed the back of his head. When he paid attention to the voice emanating from the phone, he discovered it was his father. Same as always, Anthony DiNozzo Sr. was telling him what to do.

 

"You will do everything this man instructs you to do, Anthony. To the letter. Do I make myself clear?"

 

Tony rolled his eyes, sure that his dad knew exactly what he was doing, even if he was 500 miles away. "Why should I do what _he_ says?"

 

"Because I tell you to," came the terse response. "Because you're my son and I'm responsible for your wellbeing, whether you like it or not."

 

Yes, Senior had the irritated-yet-duty-bound dad down pat. Tony waited a beat and then asked, "You want to tell me what he is doing standing here in my place, looking at me like he wants to haul my ass off to the recruiting office to enlist me in the Marines?" When he was seventeen, Tony had casually remarked that he might enlist in the Navy, and DiNozzo Sr.'s flare of temper convinced Tony that he would never again disclose his plans, wishes, or dreams to his dad if he wanted to keep all of his teeth.

 

There was silence for such a long time that Tony began to wonder if they'd been disconnected, but then Senior said, with uncharacteristic hesitation, "It's not important that you know. Understand that there have been threats and that…I'm taking them seriously. I need time to get this cleared up."

 

Okay, that didn't sound good. Shit, the old man did business with some disreputable people, and Tony would bet that this was about one of them. Still, Tony protested, "I don't need a babysitter, uh, I mean, a bodyguard, Dad." Tony watched Gibbs almost-smile and wondered what he was thinking. Probably enjoyed watching Tony spar with his father from the sidelines.

 

After a tense silence, Senior said, as if through gritted teeth, "Just trust me. For once, Anthony, do as I say without damned-well fighting me at every turn."

 

"What if I _don't_ trust you?" Tony cringed a little at his own temerity and held the phone away from his ear, just in case. He would never have spoken in that manner to his father a year or so ago, and probably wouldn’t have questioned him at all, but living on his own had been wonderfully emancipating. Distance made him brave even if the thought of someone coming after him – to kidnap him? for revenge? – made Tony uneasy even if it was unlikely.

 

"Then trust Gibbs, damn it," DiNozzo barked, and hung up.

 

Tony handed the phone back to Gibbs. "He says you're my keeper and I should trust you. Lucky you, huh?" He shifted his weight and had a serious look at Gibbs. He certainly looked as though he was up to the job. That he was military was pretty obvious, and not long off the battlefield, if Tony read him right. There were subtle signs of that: hyper-alertness, a tense stance, bottled-up aggression. And something about the eyes that spoke of loneliness, having seen too much death, and something else…something personal that he kept hidden.

 

Despite himself, Tony was interested in Gibbs, what made him tick. Did he trust him, though? Senior had sought help from Col. Hargrave, and he in turn had assigned Gibbs to be Tony's bodyguard. The colonel was a good man and Tony trusted _him_ , at least.

 

Tony asked, "You ever see that _Tom & Jerry_ cartoon, from the '40s, when Jerry rescues Spike, the dog, from the dogcatcher, and Spike is so grateful he says he'll be Jerry's bodyguard?" Gibbs's blue eyes didn't waver so Tony continued, "All Jerry has to do is whistle when he needs help, and Spike comes to the rescue. But then Jerry sucks on a sticky candy and when he gets in trouble he can't make a whistle. Things get very hairy for a while."

 

"You got a point, DiNozzo?"

 

Gibbs was looking at him expectantly, as if he truly wanted an answer, so Tony decided to be direct. "Look, I can't put my trust in you, Gibbs, because you aren't always going to be around."

 

"Well, I'm gonna be around for the next few days, so let's see if we can survive that before we make any long-term plans."

 

Gibbs seemed serious, so after some thought Tony nodded. "Okay, but what's my dad done that I have to turn my life upside down?" He had a pretty good idea what was going on but he wondered if Gibbs knew what DiNozzo Sr. was really all about. People rarely crossed his father, in business or in person, but when they did, it always got ugly. Something bad must be going down for Senior to take such precautions; Tony knew an armed protection detail when he saw it.

 

When he was a kid he'd thought that everyone's dad had a guy who looked like a club bouncer at his side, watching his six. A few times, Tony had been scooped up by one of his father's employees and taken to some remote location for his safety. One time, in the middle of the night, they took him to a safe house still wearing his Batman PJs. Usually Tony was dumped at a distant relative's home and Dad picked him up a week later, which was fine by him. Once they ended up in a cabin out in the boonies, him and this guy who worked for his father, and they got snowed in. Even now Tony remembered having the time of his life because they'd had a heap of snow overnight and the man, Franco was his name, taught Tony how to ski on a gentle slope out back.

 

When he was a little boy, Tony had put his ear to enough doors to have some understanding of what his father did for a living, and now, as an adult, he was doing his best to distance himself from that world. It wasn't that he didn't love his father, because he did, even with all the shit that he'd had to deal with while growing up. Senior might be a heavy-handed man who had some questionable – okay, _illegal_ – business practices, but to Tony, he was still his Dad. You can't choose your relatives, after all.

 

Gibbs was standing there, tight-lipped, so Tony prodded, "Did Senior tell you what's going on?"

 

Gibbs' expression didn't give anything away when he said curtly, "Not my business."

 

To Tony, Gibbs didn't seem like the kind of guy who took orders without asking questions. "What _is_ your business, exactly?" Tony persisted. The only response he got was a hooded look that told him to butt out and stop asking so many pesky questions. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and returned Gibbs's glower with one of his own. "Let's be straight here. Mr. Gibbs. You want me to go with you but I don't know you from Adam, and my mom told me to never get into cars with strangers." Tony smiled brightly to make light of his words, but he meant what he said. He wasn't going anywhere with anyone without a good reason. "You have much experience at this kind of thing?"

 

Gibbs was assessing him again, probably trying to figure out if the kid standing in front of him was jerking his chain or if he really wanted the truth. Tony thought it was funny that he was able to read so much into what was a straightforward, sharp look. Gibbs knew who his father was yet could see that Tony was living in a hole in the wall. He had to be curious, had to have asked about their background if only to know where the danger might be coming from.

 

Gibbs crossed his arms, too; his gaze didn't waver and neither did Tony's. Finally Gibbs asked, "Experience with taking orders or with being a bodyguard?"

 

Now he was getting somewhere. "Either," Tony said quickly.

 

"I've done my share of babysitting cherries," Gibbs said, straight-faced.

 

A slow smile grew across Tony's face as he read between the lines. "Babysitting…new recruits, right? You're a drill instructor," he stated as if he knew it for a fact.

 

Gibbs said, almost reluctantly, " _Was_ a drill instructor. Marines."

 

Yes, Tony DiNozzo gets it in one! "Ahah…I thought there was some DI behind those baby-blues. Oh yeah, R. Lee Ermey in _Full Metal Jacket_!" Tony quoted, "'I'm Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and the last word out of your filthy sewers will be 'sir'. Do you maggots understand that?'"

 

"You're wrong," said Gibbs, frowning.

 

"I'm wrong?"

 

"I never called any recruit a maggot," said Gibbs.

 

"You didn't?" Shit, now he'd insulted the man.

 

Gibbs shook his head solemnly. "No. I called them ass-wipe, puke-head…"

 

Tony couldn’t help grinning at Gibbs' joke, and a couple of seconds later he saw, with delight, that the corner of Gibbs' mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile, and his eyes were sparkling with amusement. Tony was used to dazzling people to get what he wanted - teachers, girls and even people he didn't like at all, but making Gibbs smile seemed like a rare victory. There was something about this man that made him want to smile in return, even if he seemed, at first glance, like a taciturn bastard. Maybe it was because Gibbs was purposely hiding his softer side, a side that Tony wanted to know. Not that anything about Gibbs was even remotely soft. Tony said, "Well, that makes me all the more glad I didn't join up. Verbal abuse at the crack-of-0400 is not at the top of Tony DiNozzo's list of favorite things. So, what's on the agenda, Mr. Gibbs?"

 

"It's Gibbs, or Gunny. Don't call me mister or sir." Gibbs looked around Tony's small apartment.

 

Tony wondered what Gibbs was looking for. Apart from the kitchenette, a bed, desk, and a second-hand TV, there were only books, videos and sports equipment in sight. Gibbs' critical once-over made Tony glad he hadn't left his dirty socks and underwear lying around, and that there were only a couple of food-encrusted plates on the floor. "Okay, and you can call me Tony but never call me Junior."

 

Gibbs nodded. "Grab your gear. Enough for a couple of weeks."

 

Interested, despite himself, Tony asked, "Road trip?"

 

"I'm taking you home to New York."

 

"New York? Wait a minute! I am _not_ going back there. That is not my home any more and I told my dad I wasn't going back after–"

 

"Hey, calm down!" Gibbs stepped close to Tony, toe-to-toe, serious now. "Let's get this straight. I am not taking orders from your father. I'm escorting you to your aunt and uncle's house in New York because the colonel told me to. What I say is final. You will do exactly as I say; you will do it quickly, and without any hesitation. Got that? There will be no debate. That's rule number twenty."

 

Tony blinked. "You've got a rule for everything?" He wasn't expecting the resulting glower, and its intensity scared him. Gibbs' jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists, making Tony take a quick step back, hands raised. The dark look on Gibbs face immediately disappeared and was camouflaged with an almost bland expression. Tony had a feeling the man was embarrassed by his reaction. He wondered what he'd said to trigger that kind of anger in the first place, but he said sincerely, "Hey, I'm sorry, man."

 

For the first time since he'd walked into Tony's apartment, Gibbs didn't meet Tony's eyes when he spoke. "Today, DiNozzo. We've got a long trip ahead of us."

 

"Wait a minute! I can't just up and leave, Gibbs. I'm starting a new job in a couple of days and I'm not risking losing it because it was really hard to get. My father might have riled up some guy from the old neighborhood but there's no way anyone is going to come all the way out to Ohio to whack me, or whatever Dad thinks is gonna happen. And what's the point of me running towards the danger, if there really is any, which I doubt there is? Anyway, anyone who knows anything about Senior DiNozzo knows he wouldn’t give a shit if I ended up in the gutter, so this is all a big waste of time, mine and yours."

 

Gibbs got right in Tony's face, his eyes sparking with anger. "What part of 'do exactly as I tell you to do without giving me any crap' do you not understand, Junior?"

 

Gibbs in angry mode was pretty scary. Tony swallowed hard and somehow managed to stand his ground. "And I told you–"

 

"You told me what?" Tony didn't reply and after a couple of seconds Gibbs burst out with an impatient, " _What_?"

 

"Um, I'm waiting for you to finish your sentence, Gunny."

 

"What the hell're you talking about?"

 

"You're supposed to say, 'You told me what, _ass-wipe_?'"

 

Gibbs glared at Tony for a full ten seconds while Tony sweated, and then the older man asked brusquely, "You jerking my chain, DiNozzo?"

 

"No, Gunny."

 

"Huh. You pack and I'll see what I can do about calling your boss. Let him know this is a family emergency." Gibbs eyed Tony, who hadn't moved. "Now what, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony was surprised that Gibbs would call his boss for him, and he really didn't know what to say, but he collected his wits and got out a quick, "Thank you." Deciding to take Gibbs at his word, Tony started to pack, then turned back to face Gibbs. "Oh, and by the way, I told you not to call me Junior," Tony said firmly.

 

Gibbs gave a curt nod and said, "Understood."

 

Tony figured that so long as he was going to his aunt and uncle's home, and not his father's place, he'd go along with Gibbs' plan. His Aunt Margaret – his mother's older sister – had always been welcoming and she had, more than once, offered Tony a safe haven when things had been tough at home. She wouldn’t cross Senior openly, but she had always tried to help Tony whenever she was able. It seemed like his uncle was never around, but Aunt Margaret had been the only person to offer a little boy a shoulder to cry on when he missed his mother and he thought that nobody loved him. She'd given him a place to stay whenever he needed it, a haven where nobody asked why he was carrying himself so stiffly or where he'd got those bruises.

 

Once, someone had anonymously called social services on his father; not that it had done any good because Senior seemed to have everyone in his pocket. But Tony had later wondered if it had been his aunt who had placed that call.

 

Tony hurriedly packed some clothes and whatever else he'd need for a couple of weeks. He didn't own much so it didn't take him long. His hand hovered over a large paperback sitting on his bedside table.

 

"What're you reading?"

 

Gibbs had managed to walk up right behind Tony, and stood so close Tony could feel his breath on the back of his neck. Tony immediately tensed up but as soon as he realized that he did, actually, trust Gibbs enough to let him stand behind him, he relaxed. "It's _The Man's Guide to Magnum, P. I._ It covers everything in the show - the guns, the team, the babes. Has pictures of the King Kamehameha Club, Magnum and Rick, T. C.'s chopper. It's a Hughes 500D." Tony pointed to the car featured on the cover, his voice softening in a mixture of reverence and envy. "This is Robin Master's car, a Ferrari 308 GTS. Someday…" He glanced up to see Gibbs looking curiously at him. "Sorry," he said, his face heating up.

 

Gibbs said, "Don't apologize. Nothing wrong with having dreams."

 

"Is that another rule?" Tony stuffed the book in his bag and did a quick check of his temporary home to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He looked over his shoulder at Gibbs and said, "It's from _She Wore a Yellow Ribbon_. John Wayne says you should never apologize because it's a sign of weakness."

 

Gibbs looked a little taken aback. "Yeah. Number six."

 

"That's what Col. Hargrave used to say. Don't apologize; make it right. You got any more of those rules?" Tony zipped up his bag and when he straightened up and turned around, it was to find Gibbs' eyes were on him. This time Tony couldn’t fathom what was going on behind the Marine's mask.

 

Gibbs seemed to shake himself, and then he replied, "There are about fifty rules. Tell me, why do I get the feeling that I'm gonna be making up a hell of a lot of new rules, just for you, before this little trip is over?"

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 1 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	2. Guarding Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
> Genre: Slash  
> Episode Tags: Pre-show, College Tony, Angst, Romance, First Time, Established Relationship, Over the Years, Light bondage, Gags (in ch. 6)  
> Rating: FRAO  
> Warnings: mention of parental physical abuse  
> Spoilers: Up to 2011, Season 8, 8x14 - A Man Walks into a Bar
> 
> This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x01, Spider and the Fly
> 
> Note: I’m not going to tag every chapter as the warnings and tags are in the first 2 chapter headers.
> 
>  

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

**Chapter 2 - Guarding Tony**

 

_Thomas Magnum: Now here we are in Paradise, we have everything we could ever possibly want out of life just here. So why, why can't we just do things for one another simply because we want to, simply because we're friends, simply because we feel like helping each other?_

 

_Fall 2010, Washington, D. C._

 

Tony hit the director's desk with his fist. "I do _not_ need a bodyguard!" He turned to Gibbs. "You tell him, Gibbs." His boss leaned back in the comfortable chair and shrugged slightly to indicate there was nothing he could do about it. Tony turned back to Vance, trying to hold in his temper. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'll bet you didn't assign someone to watch over Ziva."

 

Leon Vance stood behind his desk to reply to Tony's accusation and demands. "Actually, I did assign someone to each of your team, Special Agent DiNozzo, and I expect you to accept the inevitable as gracefully as Special Agent David has." Vance added, in a calming voice, "This is only until the end of the week, and then I will review the threat assessment. If Reynosa is not caught by then we will regroup. Until Friday you will heed my command and accept that Special Agent Chester is your bodyguard."

 

Seeing there was no point in wasting any more time quarreling with Vance, especially as Gibbs wasn't offering an ounce of support, Tony exited the office.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

No wonder Ziva hadn't kicked up a fuss about being assigned a personal protection detail. She stood over by the windows, admiring the muscular physique of Damon Werth. Tony turned to Gibbs, who smiled crookedly and shrugged. "Don't even ask," he warned.

 

Gibbs' father, now safely ensconced in his son's house in Alexandria, had two round-the-clock NCIS agents watching out for his wellbeing. The attempt by Paloma Reynosa only four days earlier to take him out in a hail of bullets was worthy of a scene from one of Thom E. Gemcity's novels. Jackson Gibbs may have been convinced to leave Stillwater, but he did not go happily. He was given the guest room upstairs, which was comfortable enough, but the thing that made it all worthwhile was being able to spend some quality time with his son.

 

Abby was being shadowed by Darren, the federal agent assigned to guard her. She was already asking him fashion and fetish advice; he appeared unfazed by her kinks. Ducky had a husky retired FBI agent at his side who, despite his linebacker looks, turned out to be a worthy opponent at chess and listened to the ME's longwinded stories without complaint.

 

McGee won the lottery by being assigned an ex-CIA operative named Lena, whose ageless beauty and dangerous appeal already had him inspired to begin a new book, tentatively entitled, 'Say it with a Bullet'.

 

Tony's protection came in a less appealing form. Special Agent Mario Chester was the quiet, unprepossessing, unrelenting fifty-year-old NCIS agent who had been assigned to watch Tony's back. He picked his teeth, had garlic breath and his hairstyle was a dyed blond comb-over that rivaled Donald Trump's. Tony did everything he could to shake the man but failed. He then wheedled, pled and lied to Chester in order to get him off his back. Nothing worked. Fed up, Tony resorted to threatening the agent, and when he saw a glint of fear in his dull brown eyes thought he'd made some headway, but the agent never left Tony's side.

 

It turned out that Special Agent Chester was not only very good at his job, but that he was far more afraid of letting down Gibbs than he was of Tony's threats.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Jethro expertly removed Tony's shirt and began to work on the zipper of his pants, despite the anxious protests coming from his lover's mouth. "Jethro," Tony whispered. "We can't…" Licking and then sucking on Tony's neck and eliciting a series of breathy moans, Jethro ignored Tony's feeble attempt to push him away. "Boss, don't…oh Jesus…where'd you learn to do that?"

 

Gibbs leaned back only long enough to strip off his T-shirt. "Why the hell are you whispering, DiNozzo?" He didn't wait or a reply, going back to where he'd left off. The sounds coming out of Tony's mouth were intense but not as loud as usual.

 

"C'mon, Jethro, you're killing me here."

 

Gibbs pushed Tony onto the bed and shut him up with a long, wet kiss. When they both stopped long enough to gasp for air, Tony whispered insistently, "Gibbs!"

 

Jethro rolled to one side and stopped his attempt to make love to Tony. Barely holding in his patience, he growled, " _What_ is the matter?"

 

Tony glanced at the door, which was not only shut and locked, but was made of heavy oak. "Chester…"

 

"For Chrissake…Chester is in the kitchen eating all of our leftovers. Can you just stop thinking about him?"

 

"And your dad?"

 

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. With exaggerated patience he said, "He's getting hard of hearing, Tony. He cannot hear us. And even if he did, I don't really give a shit." He ran one hand down Tony's bare arm and softened his tone. "I missed you. Missed having this…our time together." Tony had come back from Mexico drained and frustrated, blaming himself for losing sight of both Alejandro Rivera and the now-wounded Mike Franks. Gibbs blamed someone else altogether. "I'm just happy to have you back." Gibbs didn't add 'in one piece' though they both heard those words in their minds.

 

Tony nuzzled Jethro's throat as if to assure him that everything was fine, back to normal, that there weren't two heavily armed guards outside keeping a sharp eye out for a female Mexican drug lord bearing an automatic weapon. Tony chuckled and to Jethro's inquiring look, he said, "Just thought of a name for one of McPulpfiction's books. _Killer Cartel Chicks of DC_." Jethro smiled but shook his head and Tony knew enough not to mention business again, not while in the bedroom. "Sorry, Jethro." He kissed the older man's lips and nibbled along his jawline. "Rule number twenty?"

 

Jethro murmured, "Twenty-five. No business in the bedroom. Twenty is…no debating with the boss." He grinned and flung a leg across Tony. "Can we stop talking now? I'm gonna have to make up a new rule that prohibits citing any rules in the bedroom."

 

Tony's eyes lit up. "Maybe we need to start a whole new section that covers only bedroom rules."

 

"Hell no, DiNozzo. There's only one rule in the bedroom and you know what it is."

 

Tony smiled and asked, "No crackers in bed?"

 

"Well, there is that," Gibbs conceded.

 

"Uh, always keep lots of lube in stock?" Tony waggled his eyebrows and reached for the large tube on the bedside table.

 

"Not the one I was thinkin' of."

 

Tony made a big show of thinking hard, wrinkling his brow, making hmm noises until he received a tap on the top of his head. "Hey! Oh…I know…" He grinned. "The rule that says there's only one boss." Softer, he said, "I don't need any rule to remind me of that, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I knew you were the boss the moment I laid eyes on you."

 

Gibbs' reply was to pull Tony close and kiss him deeply, gently tracing the length of his back with his hand, losing himself in the sensual feeling of Tony's responses. After a while they separated, only long enough to shed their pants and boxers, but when Gibbs reached to take up where they left off, Tony asked in a quiet voice, "You remember when we first met?"

 

Gibbs let out a little sigh. He knew he'd get no peace until Tony got whatever was on his mind out into the open. He squinted at the ceiling. "Uh, in Baltimore?"

 

Tony jabbed him in the ribs. "No, I mean when you picked me up in Ohio. Not that you picked me up exactly, although I guess in a way you _did_ pick me up, but what I meant is more like took me on that road trip." Tony gave a small smile at the memory. "You were my bodyguard."

 

With a soft harrumph, Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You were never in any danger." But, at the time, almost twenty years ago, they hadn't known that. It was the only time that Gibbs had known Tony's father to do the right thing. DiNozzo may have sent someone else to take care of his son, but by doing so had revealed that he did care for Tony, on some level.

 

Gibbs had stretched the trip into two days, taking back roads when driving along the highway became boring. It was the first time in months he'd tolerated…no, _enjoyed_ someone else's company. He found it strange at the time that he became attached to a college kid, no matter that he was tall and lean, with understanding green eyes, a beautiful smile, and a bright future ahead of him. He remembered Tony's insolent, challenging ways, his truthful and inquisitive nature, and the annoying chatter that sometimes seemed to be never-ending and was occasionally endearing.

 

And he also remembered, once Tony had been safely delivered to his uncle's doorstep and he'd driven down to DC alone, how keenly he'd missed the young man. It was like losing a family member all over again. He had said a quick good-bye, unable to do more than hug Tony, quick and hard. He'd stripped the clinging hands away from his waist and had almost run for the safety of his car.

 

It wasn't until that moment that Gibbs made the decision to follow Mike Franks' suggestion, after all, and apply to NCIS. Meeting Tony had been enough to give him a push in the right direction. The boy had given him enough hope to combat the bleakness that was defining his life.

 

Jethro breathed in the scent of Tony's shampoo, the ache in his heart easing, as it had - a little - back in '91. "You didn't need taking care of. You didn't need…me."

 

"What? I did so." Tony was affronted. "I did need you. You took care of me, made sure I slept well and ate right the whole trip. Talked to me about sports and family and…" Tony took Jethro's face in both of his hands and delivered a kiss to his lips. "…and rules. I hated every mile that took us closer to New York. I just wanted to stay with you, to learn from you. About you. I wanted for it to never end."

 

"I know you did, Tony. It was a hard time for me…meeting you helped." Gibbs stroked a hand down Tony's head, smoothing his hair, soothing the man he'd come to love more than anything. "Looks like you got what you wanted after all."

 

"I got you."

 

"Damn right you did."

 

"Why?"

 

"You know why," Gibbs said with a frown.

 

"I know." Tony ducked his head and said in a muffled voice, "I want…I need to hear it anyway."

 

Gibbs raised Tony's face so he could look into his eyes. "Because I knew that boy was going to grow up to be something good, Tony. Because I love the man you become when things get bad. That's when you are at your very best."

 

Their kiss was affirming, and loving, and just as it became more passionate and Gibbs' mouth demanded more, Tony pulled back. "Wait. Can we get rid of Chester now? You're my bodyguard, Gibbs. And I'll watch your back. I don't need anyone else." He raked his nails down Gibbs' back, enjoying the resulting gasp.

 

"Yes, fine Tony, we get rid of Chester. And you can call me your bodyguard or whatever the hell you want to, but you'd better remember one thing. You will do as I say, exactly as I say, and you will do it when I tell you to. Got that? There will be no debate. Rule number twenty. Now, can we please have sex?"

 

Tony sidled closer and with a grin said, "Thought you'd never ask."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 2 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 


	3. Changing Gears

**Chapter 3 - Changing Gears**

  
_If you don't have good dreams, you got nightmares._

_~ Boogie, in the film Diner, 1982_

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_August, 1991, Cincinnati, Ohio_

 

After the Reds game was over they stayed seated, waiting for the worst of the crowds to dissipate. Tony leaned back in his seat, enjoying the heat from the sun, just feeling good with Gibbs at his side. "Thanks for bringing me to the game," Tony said to Gibbs, who shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Tony knew better; Gibbs had been looking forward to this outing as much as he had.

 

"I also have to thank you for talking to my boss," Tony said, looking sideways at Gibbs. Gibbs frowned as if he didn't have any recollection of what Tony was referring to, but Tony knew better. He prodded Gibbs to make him meet his eyes. "I was sure by the time I got back here my job would've been given to someone else. I mean, there had to have been fifty other applicants, so I was lucky to get it in the first place. The sports center's pay is good and I can pretty much make my own hours, plus they'd already lined me up to teach two classes. Battling Babes is one of them," Tony said with a grin.

 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Where do I sign up?"

 

Tony laughed aloud. "It's a self-defense course for women," he admitted.

 

"Seems like you're the perfect guy for the job, Tony."

 

"It's okay. They can get overly enthusiastic at times, though. You should've seen how vicious some of them were when I told them they could attack the mugger (that was me) freely. Good thing I was wearing a padded protection suit." Tony looked at Gibbs sideways and said, "Anyway, when I got back from New York, I was sure they would have hired someone else. They hadn't and my boss was really understanding, which was sort of weird. Don't get me wrong; he's a nice guy and all, but he's watching the bottom dollar, you know? So I walk in and he tells me that he held the job because he knew I was going to be an outstanding employee."

 

"You got a problem with that?"

 

Tony shook his head slowly. "No, but what I think he was _really_ saying was that he expected I'd work my ass off and teach the self-defense course because none of the other guys who work there will do it, and because someone called him and told him it would be in his best interest to keep me on the payroll. Now I know for a fact my dad wouldn't do that so…"

 

"Sounds more like he knows not to waste good," Gibbs said, unconcerned. "And he doesn't need me to tell him that."

 

Tony ducked his head, a little embarrassed at Gibbs' off-the-cuff praise. He found it sort of endearing that Gibbs wouldn’t own up to putting in a good word for him, as if Gibbs was unused to people thanking him. "Well, all I know is that you saved my life, Gibbs." Gibbs looked at him skeptically so Tony explained, "If I'd lost that job I would've been in deep shit, money-wise."

 

"Hmm. Couldn't call your dad," Gibbs said knowingly.

 

"No _way_ would I go to him. Shoot, I'd never hear the end of it. He'd charge me the usual 20% rate on a loan. Like the Mafia's six-for-five loan-sharks."

 

Gibbs nodded in understanding. "Your father get his problems straightened out?"

 

With a humorless laugh, Tony said, "Yeah, they made nice with each other, I guess. But don't worry, he'll step on somebody else's toes soon enough; it's the same old cycle. He drags people into these messes he makes and it's always somebody else who gets hurt. He doesn't care about anyone except himself," Tony said with disgust.

 

"He cared enough to send someone to protect you, Tony."

 

"Yeah, well, false alarm. Turns out the fire was put out before I even got to New York." Tony was quiet for a while and then said, with a smile, "I'm glad we got to take the road trip. It was fun."

 

Gibbs snorted. "Sure, lots of fun. Lousy motels and diner food."

 

"I love diner food, and driving back roads, and going to the Stoogeum. God, that was weird."

 

"I can't believe I let you drag me to a museum for The Three Stooges." Gibbs tried hard not to crack a smile when he said, "You've got some _noive_ ," which had Tony rolling with laughter.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Gibbs had stretched the trip into three days, taking back roads mostly. It was the first time in months, since Shannon and Kelly had been killed, that he'd tolerated…no, that he'd _enjoyed_ someone's company. He'd found it strange at the time that he became attached to a college kid so fast – a young man with understanding green eyes, a good heart, and a bright future ahead of him. He remembered Tony's insolent, challenging ways, his truthful and inquisitive nature, and the annoying chatter that sometimes seemed as if would never end.

 

And he also remembered that once Tony had been safely delivered to his aunt and uncle's doorstep, and he had hit the road again, how keenly he'd missed the young man. It was like losing a family member all over again, except, he reminded himself, this time it wasn't permanent.

 

He had said a quick good-bye, and had hugged Tony, quick and hard, then removed the clinging hands from around his waist and ran for the safety of his car.

 

It wasn't until he had been driving away, determined not to look back, that Gibbs had made the decision to take Mike Franks' offer of a job at NIS. Meeting Tony had been a turning point of sorts, had pushed Gibbs in the right direction. Maybe it was Tony's upbeat nature, or the way he had defiantly refused to give in to his father, but Tony had given Gibbs hope to combat the bleakness that had become a defining factor in his life.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

After they left Riverfront Stadium, the two men stopped at a café before driving back to Columbus because Tony was, he swore, famished. Facing each other across the dark green laminate table, Tony dug into a burger and fries, while Gibbs had black coffee and a slice of apple pie.

 

"How is Colonel Hargrave doing these days? He send you out on any more jobs?" Tony said, in a deep voice, mimicking the colonel, "Men, adversity causes some men to break; others to break records."

 

Gibbs was amused at Tony remembering the quotes that Hargrave had drilled into the boys he taught. "I haven't heard from the colonel since right after you and I took our little road trip. Job was done and I walked away." Realizing that sounded dismissive, Gibbs added, "It was a favor, Tony, but one I enjoyed doing."

 

Tony dropped his gaze to his food, unable to hide his smile at Gibbs' admission. "I sorta wondered if you were doing a favor for the colonel or if it was the other way around. I think maybe you needed some company other than your own, you know?" He looked up and studied Gibbs' face, a little worried. "You doing okay now? Your knee is better; you're not limping any more."

 

"Yeah, I'm doing okay," Gibbs replied, a little annoyed that Tony was so observant. He was grieving at the time, angry at the world, every day a struggle. Unable to go back on active duty because of his damaged knee, Gibbs had been unsure about what to do with the rest of his life. With nothing better to do, he'd accepted the bodyguard assignment when Hargrave had contacted him.

 

The colonel had also confided in Gibbs that he didn't want to see Tony dragged down by his father. "That boy needs a strong mentor, Gunny, if you're up for the job. I don't want that father of his to ruin all my hard work." Gibbs had begrudgingly agreed to escort Tony to his relatives' home, but he'd ended up gaining so much more than he'd signed on for. Getting to know Tony during their short time together had given Gibbs a much-needed push to make some decisions about his future.

 

Tony chewed on his burger and then asked, "So what've you been doing since I last saw you in May? You been doing bodyguard work?"

 

Gibbs chuckled. "No, you were the last body I guarded. I'm at NIS now. Except they went and changed the name to NCIS. It's the Naval Criminal Investi–."

 

Tony nodded and finished up Gibbs' sentence. "Investigative Service. I knew you were going to get that job, Gibbs. You're a Navy cop. That's great." He asked eagerly, "Are you a field investigator? You get to snoop around murder scenes? Foil terrorist plots?"

 

Gibbs recalled he'd mentioned to Tony that he was considering applying for a job with NIS. "Yeah, now I can officially stick my nose in other people's business," he said wryly.

 

"Are you the boss of your own unit?"

 

He pictured himself lugging all the equipment to and from every crime scene, with Mike Franks barking orders at him, calling him Probie. "Uh, no."

 

Tony nodded confidently. "You will be."

 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the kid's confidence in his leadership skills, and said gruffly, "You seem pretty sure of that, DiNozzo."

 

Sticking a fry in his mouth, Tony said, "Yup." He ate a couple more fries and then grinned. "I can tell you'd make a good teacher. Got a lot of patience."

 

"A teacher?" Gibbs let out a huff of breath. He was hardly what you'd call patient where people were concerned. "Nah. Right now I'm a probie."

 

When they were on their road trip last spring, Gibbs had told Tony about some of his experiences as a sniper while in the Marines, as well as when he'd been an MP while at Camp Lejeune. He'd described to the interested young man about the processing of a crime scene and what an investigation entailed. He'd also told Tony a story or two about his experiences in the Corps as a gunnery sergeant, and then he'd started to talk about his tour in Desert Storm. That's when Gibbs had faltered and fallen into a quiet spell. The memories, the loss of his family, had been still too fresh to share with anyone at the time. After that, he'd concentrated on driving, and had let Tony do the talking.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

The way that Gibbs had treated him during the journey had taught Tony a lot about the man. Gibbs had been curt at times, and had ordered him about, but he had also asked questions, and had listened and he'd never talked down him; that was what Tony remembered best. Gibbs had been kind in ways that mattered. For the first time in his life Tony had spent time with an adult who had been genuinely interested in him as a person.

 

"You're good at watching out for people," said Tony, studying the older man sitting across the café table from him. Gibbs looked at him skeptically so Tony said, "Like when you drove me to New York."

 

"Wouldn't have been necessary if your father hadn't stirred up the local mob," said Gibbs, apparently still annoyed at Tony's father. "I was heading east anyway. Didn't mind the company," he said offhandedly.

 

Tony sent Gibbs a sideways look while he slurped his soda until there was nothing left but ice cubes in the bottom of the glass. Gibbs had enjoyed their trip to New York as much as he had, even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud. "I think we got along pretty good. We found plenty of things to talk about to pass the time – sports and travel, and things we want to do before we die. I wish we could have driven forever," Tony said wistfully. He poked at the melted ice cubes with his straw, making a crunching sound.

 

"You mean _you_ talked. And talked." Gibbs moved Tony's glass out of his reach. "You want another soda or are you gonna play with it all day?"

 

Tony thought it was funny how easy it was to annoy Gibbs. He shook his head and pointed out, "Hey, you talked, too. You told me all about the Marines and about the rules. My dad always comes down on me for talking too much. He says it gets on his nerves." Gibbs made a huffing sound, indicating he agreed, which made Tony smile. "Not that you're any good at talking about movies or TV shows or anything interesting like that. Of course it isn't your fault you were deprived as a child and didn't even have a TV," Tony teased.

 

"Hey, we did, too." Tony raised his eyebrows to show his disbelief, so Gibbs said, "It was in the den and when I was a kid, it was my job to get up and adjust those rabbit ears when the reception got snowy."

 

"Name one show you watched," Tony challenged, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table.

 

"Uh…" Gibbs drank some coffee, obviously stalling for time. " _Rawhide_ ," he said, with a nod to say 'so there.'

 

"Gee, I must have missed that one. Too bad." Tony tried not to roll his eyes. "Anyway, as I recall, you did your share of gabbing until I spilled my chocolate shake all over you. Of course that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn't swerved around that car that was going all of twenty miles an hour, just outside Harrisburg." It still puzzled Tony that Gibbs had taken it all in stride. He had pulled over without making any fuss, helped Tony clean up the spillage, and got the car back on the road – all without saying more than two words. Sure, he'd looked a little grim, but who wouldn't if you got a lapful of milkshake? "You know, it's funny," said Tony, frowning at Gibbs. "You never yelled at me or anything. My dad would have gone ballistic. I'd have been dumped by the side of the road and he'd be gone in a cloud of dust, never looking back."

 

"Sometimes you do test my patience, Tony, but it was an accident," Gibbs said, with a slightly exasperated shake of his head. "You're a smart kid, and I listen to what you have to say. Sometimes, some of it even makes sense." His smile eased the sarcasm in his voice.

 

Tony could feel his face turning pink so he dug into his meal to hide his discomfort, shrugging off the compliment even though it meant the world to him. It wasn't often anyone praised him, except maybe on the basketball court or when he was playing football. Girls sometimes said nice things after sex, but even though that made him feel good, Tony knew enough not to read too much into their words.

 

Gibbs tapped Tony's glass with his fork, making him look up. "Hell, you put up with my grousing, and didn't complain when I took coffee-and-piss stops every couple of hours for 500 miles, so I guess I could put up with your chatter."

 

Tony laughed and said, "In that case, don't forget to mention the snoring, and what a grouch you were in the morning. But it was worth it, Gibbs, except that…"

 

"What?"

 

"We didn't have to stop every couple of hours. It was every _hour_. Like clockwork."

 

Gibbs stared at Tony. "Was not."

 

"Every hour." Tony nodded.

 

Gibbs snorted.

 

"Could've set my watch to it," said Tony, suppressing a smile.

 

Gibbs growled under his breath and paid for the meal.

 

Once they were walking along the sidewalk towards Gibbs' car, Tony said, quite seriously, "You know what? Next time we go on a road trip, we'll take along one of those auto-johns, like the truckers have. They're really good for older guys who need to make pit stop every hour. You know what the packaging says: 'Fits all male connections.'" As Tony expected, a slap was delivered to the back of his head, but he really didn't mind.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_May, 1992_

 

"Hey, DiNozzo, there's a dude downstairs asking for you."

 

Tony halted in mid-tweak of his hair styling, a tube of hair gel in his hand, and turned away from the mirror to look at his roommate, Barry. A glance at the clock told him it was 10:45. Sort of late for callers, even on a Saturday night. Cautiously he asked, "Is he well dressed?" He could not bring himself to ask outright if it was his father. Arriving unannounced might be his father's style, but not at a college dorm. Dad would pick a neutral location if he wanted to see him. But seeing that Tony hadn't seen his father since the end of last summer, and had only spoken to him, briefly and angrily, on the phone twice since then, he didn't think it could be him.

 

Barry shook his head and leaned against the frame of the door that was open to the busy corridor. This was a big night with plenty of celebrations and parties going on. "No, he looks like…"

 

Tony asked, "Like what?"

 

"Like a cop. You let another cow loose in the science lab without telling your buddy, DiNozzo?"

 

With a grin, Tony shook his head. "No, but we can think up something good for our next prank." A cop? He quickly cast his mind back to his recent activities and tried to think of anything that might warrant a cop turning up at his door. But then, if it were official business, wouldn’t the man be at his door flashing a badge and not waiting downstairs asking about him? "What'd he look like, other than a cop?"

 

"No uniform," Barry said. He slouched into the room and didn't bother to move any of his clothes, papers or books off his unmade bed before he sat down on it. Tony's half of the room was neat, surprisingly so. His roomie had shrugged off his neatness as being a by-product of years of boarding and military schools, but somehow it didn't seem to match the free-styling ways of Tony DiNozzo. "He's all in gray. Gray suit, gray hair. Bet that bulge under his arm is a big gray gun."

 

Tony dabbed a little more gel on his hair and was about to ask for more details when there was a knock on the wood surround of the open door and there stood the cop, as described, dressed all in gray. Startled, all Tony could take in was the man's blue eyes. "Gibbs." The name escaped Tony's lips, almost in a whisper. Then, louder, "Gibbs!"

 

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood there for a minute, looking over Tony, his roommate and the small dorm room in what appeared to be a detached way. When his gaze slipped back to Tony and their eyes met once again, Gibbs gave a slight nod and a suggestion of a smile. "DiNozzo. Can we have a word?"

 

Realizing he was standing there like an idiot, grinning with a tube of hair gel in hand, Tony shook himself. "Sure…sure." It struck him that Gibbs may be bearing bad news and Tony's heart did an uneven dance.

 

Gibbs saw the flash of fear in Tony's eyes and immediately said, "Relax. I'm not here on business." He looked pointedly at Tony's roommate and back to the young man he'd come to see. "Let me take you for coffee."

 

It sounded like an order, but Tony didn't mind. He quickly introduced Gibbs to Barry then grabbed his red and white Ohio State jacket. He led the way downstairs and out, shouldering his way through crowds of students, most in a celebratory mood and somewhat inebriated state, many congratulating Tony on that night's basketball win. "There's a place a couple of miles from here," Tony suggested. He added, almost apologetically, "I'm sorta hungry and it’s the nearest place with real food. It's just a diner."

 

"I'll drive," Gibbs said. "I'm not keeping you from any parties, am I?"

 

He was but Tony didn't care. "I'd rather get some food."

 

The implication that he'd rather spend time with Gibbs was not lost on the older man. He led the way to where his car was parked and as soon as they were on the road and Tony had given him directions, Gibbs said, "Caught the last half of the game. You played well."

 

Glad that the interior of the car was so dark that Gibbs couldn’t see the way his face reddened at the praise, Tony swallowed and said, "Thanks."

 

"You cut it pretty close with your last layup, DiNozzo. You hot-dogging it for maximum effect?"

 

"I was being blocked. If I coulda got a clean shot it would have made it in before the buzzer," Tony explained somewhat defensively. "It was cause it bounced on the rim. I didn't think it was going to go in, but then I heard the crowd cheering. That's when I knew it was good." It had been a good game, one of their best team efforts, he thought. "Coach Ayers said we had to work together to beat the Tar Heels, and he was right. Did you see Prentiss' offensive moves? He was on top of his game tonight."

 

Gibbs nodded. "80 to 73. It was a solid game. Looks like you're a scrapper out there on the court." He glanced over at Tony and gave him a smile that was incrementally wider than the one that had accompanied his greeting in the dorm. "Glad I saw you in action, Tony." The resulting look on Tony's face, a combination of surprise, pride and satisfaction, made Gibbs glad he had come.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Once they were at the diner and seated, the two men discussed the menu and then ordered. The service was brisk and good. Gibbs wasn't much of a conversationalist but Tony kept up his end while they waited for their food, talking about the game, sports and college life for a while. After their food came - roast chicken with rice and black beans, and a large cup of black coffee for Gibbs, two sides of fries, and a huge plate of spaghetti Bolognese, along with a glass of milk for Tony - they ate in silence for a while.

 

The diner was pretty busy considering the late hour. A couple of college girls stopped by on their way out and Tony flirted with them without any effort. Gibbs sat back and watched the young man at work, keeping his amusement to himself. There was no doubt that Tony was as practiced with girls as he was with sports. When the girls reluctantly said good night and left, Gibbs wondered if he hadn't been present which one would have been warming Tony's bed that night. Maybe both?

 

When they were alone again, Tony pushed his food around on his plate for a while. Eventually he asked, "What made you come to the game? And out to eat with me?"

 

Gibbs drank some coffee and then said matter-of-factly, "I was hungry."

 

Tony looked up in disbelief at the too-simple explanation. "Oh, so you were just in the neighborhood?"

 

Gibbs smiled sheepishly. "I was in the area. Finished a job and was heading to DC, then back to California. Thought I'd see how you're doing."

 

"How is Colonel Hargrave doing these days? He send you out on any more jobs?" Tony could still hear the sharp commands of the president of RI Military Academy, as he stood before the assembly of cadets in his dress uniform. Tony recited under his breath, "Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records."

 

Something that passed for amusement twinkled in Gibbs' eyes. "You're fishing, DiNozzo. I haven't heard from the colonel since I saw you last summer. Job was done and I walked away." He must have realized that sounded dismissive, because he added, "It was a favor, Tony, but one I enjoyed doing."

 

Tony dropped his gaze to his food, trying to hide the smile Gibbs' admission caused him to reveal. He had wondered at the time if Gibbs had been doing a favor for the colonel or if it had been the other way around. It had seemed that Gibbs was in a bad place back then, moving without purpose between bad and worse. But looking at the man now, it was apparent whatever had been troubling him only months earlier had eased up somewhat. He still had that walking wounded air about him, but he did look better. Maybe Gibbs was simply better at hiding whatever was eating at him. "Yeah, I enjoyed our road trip, too." Tony ate a few mouthfuls and asked, "What kind of job were you doing? Being a bodyguard?"

 

"No. I'm at NCIS now. Naval Criminal Investigative--."

 

Tony nodded and finished up Gibbs' sentence. "Investigative Service. You're a Navy cop." Gibbs had mentioned when they were on their road trip last year that he was considering applying for a job with NCIS. Tony never had any doubt that Gibbs would go for, and get the job.

 

"A Navy cop? Yeah, sort of."

 

"Are you the boss?"

 

"Uh, no."

 

Tony nodded confidently. "You will be."

 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the kid's confidence in his leadership skills, and said gruffly, "You seem pretty sure of that, DiNozzo."

 

Sticking a fry in his mouth, Tony said, "Yup." He chewed, swallowed and then grinned. "I can tell you'd make a good teacher. Got a lot of patience."

 

"A teacher?" Gibbs let out a huff of breath. "Right now I'm a probie."

 

Tony knew that Gibbs had been a sniper when in the Marines, and had been an MP while at Camp Lejeune. When they'd been on their little road trip, Gibbs had described to him what investigation of a crime scene entailed, and what it took to be a sniper. He'd also told Tony a story or two about his experiences in the Corps as a gunnery sergeant, and then he'd started to talk about his tour in Desert Storm. That's when the ex-Marine had faltered and fallen into a quiet spell. After that Gibbs concentrated on driving, letting Tony do the talking while he only responded to direct questions.

 

It was the way that Gibbs had treated him on the journey they'd taken the previous summer that had taught Tony about the man. He'd been curt at times, and had ordered him about, but Gibbs had also asked Tony questions. He had shared and listened and had never talked down to the younger man. He had been kind in ways that mattered. For the first time in his life Tony had spent time with an adult who had been genuinely interested in him as a person.

 

It wasn’t until later that he realized that he had a sort of crush on Gibbs, and after digesting that thought, Tony smiled. It felt good and, after all, it wasn’t like anything was every going to happen between them.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

As they ate Gibbs told Tony a bit about the procedure of an NCIS crime scene investigation, enjoying the eager attention the young man gave him. He'd been taken with Tony from the start and even though the kid had almost driven him crazy with all his talking during that long drive from Ohio to New York, he had missed him fiercely once they had parted. He put it down to having been lonelier than he'd thought he was. Gibbs had barely spoken to anyone since he'd been notified of the deaths of Shannon and Kelly, but he'd opened up a little to Tony and within the short time they'd spent together that crack had widened considerably. Now, sitting opposite the young man, just talking and sharing a meal, made him feel good, like he was at home.

 

At some point the conversation gave Gibbs an opening and he asked something he'd been wondering about. "Did your dad straighten out that trouble he was in?" He hoped the older DiNozzo had learned to keep his business problems under control, if only to prevent Tony from being put in the path of danger. He'd looked into the elder DiNozzo's dealings once he'd joined NCIS. Gibbs had not liked what he'd found out. "Does he often come to your games?"

 

Tony stopped eating and became very still, all emotion draining from his face, his eyes darkening. He appeared to be concentrating on something very interesting on his plate but Gibbs could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. It was such a change from the animated young man of only seconds ago that Gibbs was concerned. "Hey, Tony, you okay?" He reached out and touched Tony's chin with a couple of fingers, gently urging him to look up.

 

Tony's green eyes, usually so expressive, were flat. It was as if he didn't even see Gibbs, they were so blank and far away. As quickly as he'd changed from vibrant to lifeless, Tony changed back to his usual outgoing self with a quick smile, wide and open.

 

Tony grinned and helped himself to a couple of Gibbs' fries. "Hey, have you ever see the film _Diner_? It's about a group of high-school buddies from Baltimore who meet up a week between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve in 1959. So they hang out in a diner."

 

If Gibbs hadn't seen that back and forth transformation with his own eyes he never would have known that there was something terribly wrong going on inside Tony's head. Witnessing those few seconds of withdrawal chilled Gibbs to the core. To think that the mere mention of Tony's father had changed him so drastically was troublesome. The ex-Marine was suddenly reminded of the children he'd seen in Bosnia and the Middle East, victims of war, hopelessness marking them with bleak, dead eyes.

 

Gibbs watched the young man sitting across from him as he started a discourse on a film, trying to find any residue of the reticent Tony. If it was still there, it was well hidden. He wondered if Tony even knew how his face had changed, how his whole body had tensed up. Was it just a flash of something dark in an otherwise sunny disposition, or was it possible that Tony was spending his every waking hour covering up his true self? And Tony had never responded to Gibbs' questions about his father; it was as if he'd blanked him out.

 

"There's no coherent plot, really," Tony said, finishing up his meal. "Its episodic, concentrates on character, but there's this great scene when the friends take bets on whether a regular customer, this huge guy, can eat his way through the entire menu."

 

Gibbs knew, all too well, the price of living a lie, of acting as if everything was fine when all he wanted to do was let it all out, to yell, to strike out, to hurt somebody. He'd become used to hiding his true self, and it was second nature now, but he'd seen a war's worth of death and senseless cruelty. His family had been murdered…taken from him. Gibbs felt emotion squeeze his heart, both for the loss of his wife and child, and with worry over whatever Tony was going through on his own. What had happened to him to make him so? He'd had a bad feeling about DiNozzo, Sr., since their first phone contact and it hadn't improved any since then.

 

Tony waved a fry in the air as he spoke. "This means this guy has to eat his way through appetizers, side dishes, pancakes, pork chops, pies and everything. There's a hundred things on that menu. These friends spend hours eating greasy food, drinking bad coffee and arguing over movies, music and women. Great film."

 

Whatever had come over Tony, it was long gone and apparently not about to make another appearance. When he reached for another fry Gibbs pushed the plate closer to him. "You always this hungry? Go ahead. Finish them up."

 

Tony nodded. "I'm always really hungry after a game. I can't decide if I'm going to pursue basketball or football but I've already had a football scout approach me." He leaned forward eagerly. "I don't care so long as I get a chance at a sports career. Coach says I need to weigh my options carefully."

 

"There's nothing wrong with having dreams, Tony." Tony was tall and lanky enough for basketball, but he looked too lightweight for football. "Your coach sounds like a man with a head on his shoulders. You should listen to his advice." Gibbs thought that he'd better check back on Tony and make sure he had someone to talk to, especially if what his gut told him about Tony's father was right, that DiNozzo, Sr. was selfish, and something worse.

 

"I'd listen to you, too, Gibbs, if you have any advice to give me."

 

"Keep up your studies. Even jocks need to use their brains." Gibbs handed Tony his card, even though he'd made sure he'd had his numbers when they'd parted last summer. "I'm only a phone call away. Day or night."

 

Tony stared at the card for a minute, then tucked it safely away in his pocket. He said in a quiet voice, "Thanks, Gibbs. That means a lot to me." In the blink of an eye Tony hid his serious side away just as if he'd tucked his feelings in his pocket alongside Gibbs' business card. His face lit up, showing enthusiasm once again. "Anyway, in _Diner_ , Mickey Rourke plays Boogie, who places bets on everything. Everything! He leads a carefree life, flitting from one romance to another. Gotta say he has balls. Then one of the characters gives his fiancée a football test. Over a hundred questions on it. If she doesn't get a good score he won't marry her." Tony laughed and slapped the table. "It's virtually impossible to get a perfect score. You can tell he's setting her up to fail." He shook his head at the stupidity and cleverness of it all.

 

"Maybe I should get hold of a copy of that test," Gibbs said with a wry smile.

 

"Hell, I don't care if a girl knows about football or not, so long as she's ready to make out during half-time." Tony changed gears again, saying, almost shyly, "We have a game in Charlottesville in two weeks."

 

Gibbs couldn’t promise anything, particularly as he knew that if he couldn’t attend due to work, more than a promise would be broken. "I'd like that. I'll try, Tony."

 

Their eyes met and Tony seemed to be searching for something in his face. After a beat the young man nodded. "That's all I'd ask." Tony motioned over his shoulder to the waitress. "Apple pie a la mode for me." He turned to Gibbs with a broad smile. "What do you want, Jethro?"

 

Suddenly and inexplicably pleased at Tony's use of his first name, Gibbs smiled. "I think I'm fine, Tony, just fine," he said.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 3 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 

 


	4. The Test

Spoilers: Up to 2011, Season 8, 8x14 - A Man Walks into a Bar

This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x02, Worst Nightmare

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

**Chapter 4 - The Test**

 

_Living alone has some terrific advantages. You can eat, sleep, go in and out, and burp whenever you want. It also has one terrific disadvantage – when you lose something, you've got no one to blame but yourself._

_~Thomas Magnum_

_September, 2010, Alexandria, VA_

 

They had a quiet dinner together, although for a change their lack of conversation was not due to physical or mental exhaustion. The two men were simply content to be together. It had become habit for Tony and Jethro to avoid talking about work when at home. Gibbs' house was their sanctuary, a place they both needed, sometimes desperately, to remain free from the conflicts of the outside world.

 

Even though they had enjoyed the company of Jethro's dad, and Jackson loved spending time with his son, there had come a time when the older man wanted to return to his home. Now that Paloma Reynosa had been taken out, and Jethro had returned from Stillwater where he'd helped his dad renovate the damaged general store, things were back to normal.

 

Tony still flushed when he recalled how, when Jackson had first arrived at Jethro's home, he'd spoken loudly and clearly to the old man for three whole days. That was before Gibbs' dad took him aside for a little one-on-one talk.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

"Tony," Jack said kindly, "I may be getting a bit long in the tooth, but the one faculty I still have in perfect working order is my hearing. And it will continue to be good, God willing, providing you stop shouting at me all the time. I'm not deaf."

 

"But…" Tony had pointed upstairs in the direction of the bedroom he shared with Jethro. "But…Jethro said you couldn’t hear us…" Then he realized that each time he and Jethro had sex, or made love, which was the way that Tony really thought of it, he'd believed what Jethro had said - that his father was deaf and couldn’t hear them. "Oh…Oh shit!" Mortified, Tony could feel the heat rising up his neck and staining his cheeks.

 

Jackson patted his forearm. "Don't worry, son. Sounded like you young'uns were having a real good time."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

"It must have been a tough job, cleaning up the store," Tony said as he cleared the table, knowing that when Jethro had viewed the devastation from the Reynosa men's heavy gunfire, it had brought home how damned lucky Jackson was to be alive.

 

"We were able to salvage a lot of the goods. We replaced the plate glass and plugged up a lot of little holes, too." Gibbs hunched over his after-dinner coffee, looking grim.

 

"I hope the customers don't find any slugs in their box of Wheat-Os instead of a secret decoder ring," Tony replied. He made light of it now but they were all lucky to be alive. It was still tough for Tony to look out on Jethro's back yard where Paloma Reynosa had killed one of the agents on protection detail.

 

After washing the dinner dishes Tony relaxed on the couch to watch a film. He didn't mind if Jethro didn't watch with him; it was enough that they were in the same room.

 

Jethro settled in his easy chair with a good light over his shoulder to help him see his crossword puzzle. When he sensed the movie was running close to its conclusion he shut the crossword puzzle book, laid his reading glasses aside, and unassumingly moved over to sit next to Tony. The movie was one of those old black and white Myrna Loy and William Powell comedies that didn't hold his attention like they used to. Jethro was more interested in the man at his side, now leaning against him even though his eyes were riveted on the large TV screen.

 

Tony laughed at the comedy and glanced at Gibbs, then back at the movie, but he casually reached out and took hold of his lover's hand.

 

Their fingers intertwined and Gibbs gave Tony's hand a squeeze then he slid down a bit so his head rested on the back of the couch. Jethro was almost asleep by the time the credits were rolling across the screen, but the soft caress of Tony's lips against his mouth made Jethro smile and react with a sound of pleasure. Tony leaned into him, taking advantage of the older man's pliable state, his mouth working its usual magic.

 

"Mmm, nice," Jethro said sleepily when they moved slightly apart. He reached for Tony, his hand light on his neck to draw him back for another kiss. But when Tony retreated a little and considered him with a slight frown, Jethro asked, "What's the matter? You want to take this upstairs?"

 

"Well, yeah, but that's not it. I…oh, never mind." Tony started to rise but Jethro pulled him back.

 

"Hey. Tell me." Jethro knew he got better results with direct orders. He waited patiently while Tony looked down at their still-clasped hands.

 

"You were really nice to those probies this week. You're not supposed to be nice."

 

Gibbs sent him a sideways glance but only said, "They were interns."

 

"Semantics. I get the feeling all three of them will take the next step and become probies soon enough."

 

"You worrying about your job, DiNozzo? That kid, Conrad, he caught on fast." The corner of Gibbs' mouth quirked with the beginning of a smile. "At least you'll always have seniority over them," he assured his agent. He held out one arm and beckoned for Tony to join him once more. "C'mere."

 

Tony sank down onto the couch and relaxed into Gibbs' arms with a sigh. "Was I ever that fresh-faced and eager?"

 

That brought out a chuckle that resounded in Jethro's chest. "You are still eager. First time I saw that light in your eyes was on our little road trip. Next time I seem to remember you were eager for a sports career. By the time you were job-hopping in law enforcement and I took you under my wing, you were more…impatient, looking for something else. You always were hungry." Tony had also been a bit lost and needed the direction that Gibbs and NCIS offered him, but Jethro didn't say that aloud.

 

"And these kids aren't eager?"

 

"They're children. They're fresh-faced and innocent. My team is made up of well-honed agents who work together like a well-oiled machine." He said that with more than a degree of pride.

 

"Abby's an innocent," Tony pointed out as he ran one hand across Jethro's chest. He tweaked one of his nipples through his shirt, eliciting a small hiss. "And I’m still hungry," he added enticingly in a low voice. "And eager."

 

"Huh. One thing, nobody could call you innocent, DiNozzo." Jethro unbuttoned Tony's shirt, reached in and rubbed his thumb in circles around Tony's nipple in retaliation. "Abby isn't exactly what I'd call innocent, either. More like wide-eyed and enthusiastic."

 

"I can be enthus--."

 

Jethro effectively stopped Tony from replying by pressing him into the couch, using his hands and mouth to silence him. The kisses Jethro delivered brought the desired results. By the time he'd finished, Tony's eyes were closed and there was a sated expression on his face.

 

Tony's eyes opened slowly, just a little. "What…were we talking…?"

 

"Done talking. Bed. Now." Gibbs rose and hauled Tony up and onto his feet.

 

Once they were both standing Tony wrapped his arms around Jethro and leaned heavily against him. His nuzzled Jethro's neck, all hot breath and warm tongue working at his skin. "God, you taste good." Tony shifted his weight then smiled and angled his head for a deeper kiss, full of tenderness and longing.

 

Jethro reciprocated, using his tongue to best advantage. The resulting sound from Tony, somewhere between a sigh and a moan in the back of his throat, made Jethro grip his hips to pull them closer.

 

Tony smiled and asked, "You want to show me how well oiled this machine is?" He rubbed his pelvis against Jethro's, his eyes widening at the quick response. "Hey boss, I think you left a power tool in your pocket," he teased. He reached down to cup Jethro's burgeoning erection and made a sound of appreciation. "Mmmm."

 

"I don't use power tools. It's a screwdriver and I'm not getting it out until we're upstairs, Tony," Gibbs warned. He didn't mind some foreplay on the couch, or in the kitchen, or workshop, but he was getting too old to find pleasure in full-body-contact sex anywhere except in his own bed. Even when Tony had retained his own apartment he'd never liked making love there. He was a bit territorial. And possessive. And set in his ways.

 

"Then you'll screw me?" Tony's arms were loose around Gibbs' back, his hips swaying a little side to side, enjoying the friction. He kissed Jethro's willing lips and pled, "Promise?"

 

"Only if you shut up."

 

They kissed some more until Tony broke away to ask, "Jethro?"

 

Sigh. "What?"

 

"Why were you acting so…nice? I mean it's really not like you."

 

The way Tony said that wasn't intended to be hurtful. Gibbs knew damn well he was usually grouchy and curt and had never before exhibited any patience for interns. "I don't know. Maybe I'm mellowing. These kids should get a chance to follow their dreams."

 

Tony looked him in the eyes for a minute, then his face softened. "That's really nice of you."

 

Gibbs barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "What? You expect me to scare the shit out of potential recruits?"

 

"Well, yeah." The head slap he got in reply was not totally unexpected. Then Jethro stroked Tony's head, smoothing his hair down where it stuck up. Tony grinned. "You can be quite a bear…"

 

Gibbs could tell there was more, a 'but' in there somewhere. "But?" He knew if they didn't play out the entire conversation that Tony would just start it up again, probably when they were in bed, naked, when he was raring to go. Jethro did not like interruptions once he got going. "Get it said, Tony. I'm an old man. I can't hold this forever."

 

"Oh yes you can, Jethro." Tony grinned and rubbed his hand over Jethro's jeans-covered erection.

 

"Not if you do that, I can't." Jethro moved Tony's hand away and hugged him tighter. He gave him a deep kiss, then whispered against his mouth, "Just say it." Jethro's' tongue and teeth worked along his jawline, distracting Tony.

 

Tony drew in a ragged breath then said, "But…I should have remembered."

 

Gibbs frowned. "Remembered what?"

 

"Years ago, when we ate at that diner near campus." He could see that Gibbs was wondering what the hell he was bringing that up for after all this time. "You sat there and talked to me."

 

"And?"

 

Tony gave a little shrug and dropped his gaze. "Nobody'd ever done that before. I mean, you listened. Really _listened_ to me. You were nice." He buried his face in Jethro's neck, taking strength from the man he loved.

 

Gibbs also recalled the way he'd almost messed up by mentioning Tony's father during that late-night dinner after Tony's winning basketball game. It took years before he really understood what the problem was between Tony and his old man, and even longer before Tony confided in him and was able to work through it. Today Tony was able to deal with his dad, but Senior would never know how much he'd lost by rejecting his own son all those years. The bastard never took the time to know his own son and hurt him often and badly. Gibbs still shook with anger when he thought about it.

 

His voice suddenly husky, Jethro said, "Damn it, Tony, you talked so much that night I couldn’t do anything _but_ listen." He took the edge off his words by adding, "Even back then I was crazy about you. Now I can't imagine…I can't live without you. You know that…hey, look at me." Trying not to make his request sound too much like an order, Jethro said softly, "C'mon, look at me, Tony."

 

Tony raised his eyes to meet Jethro's blue eyes, smiling damply. "I'm looking at you, the most generous man I know."

 

"Yeah well, my generosity has about reached its limits, so how about we mosey up those stairs and you can show me just how grateful you are." He carefully wiped the moisture from Tony's lashes with a thumb and kissed him gently. "You do know that we would not be standing here today if you hadn't passed my test."

 

"What test?"

 

"The football test from that movie you were telling me about. _Diner_ , wasn't it? The test that's designed to sort the wheat from the chaff. A proving ground for potential partners."

 

Tony laughed aloud. "Man, I forgot about that. You made me answer all those sports questions. I still can't believe I got them all right." He saw a funny look pass over Jethro's face and he stilled. "What? I got a perfect score on that test," Tony protested.

 

Jethro bit his lip and gazed at the ceiling. "Uh…" He sat up retaining his hold on Tony's hands.

 

Could Leroy Jethro Gibbs be looking _guilty_? Tony moved back as far as Jethro would let him. "No…don't tell me…you didn't _let_ me win, did you?"

 

Sheepishly, Jethro shrugged and said, "Let's just say I wasn't about to lose out on having you just because you missed a few answers about football trivia." He pulled Tony back into his arms, hugging him tightly. "You don't think I was going to give you up that easy, do you?"

 

"Jethro…" Tony knew he had guilt written all over his face. "Oh hell, I have to tell you. I cheated on the test. I wasn't going to let my messing up a football test ruin my chances of being with you. You see, I can't live without you, either."

 

Jethro narrowed his eyes and studied Tony. After a long moment he said, "Then we'd better get upstairs so you can take a make-up test." He tugged Tony along with him up the stairs and to their bedroom.

 

"Make-up test?"

 

"Yup, only this time there's no cheating."

 

"I'll need a lot of coaching."

 

"I can teach you."

 

"See, I always said you were a good teacher, Jethro."

 

Gibbs dragged Tony over to the bed, helped him undress and pushed him down onto the mattress. He tore off his own clothes and eagerly straddled his lover. "Guess it's time for the old dog to teach you a lesson or two then." Tony's response was a groan as Jethro started to show him, from the heart, exactly what he meant to him. Neither of them spoke again for a long, long time.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 4 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 


	5. One Bad Move

**Chapter 5 - One Bad Move**

 

_Even in the Hawaiian sunshine, football, to me, smelt like fall in New England. Some place there should be a prep band playing, pretty girls in short skirts, and I was 21 with an arm that could throw passes all afternoon._

_~ Thomas Magnum_

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_November, 1992, Columbus, Ohio_

 

Gibbs finally made it to one of his games after canceling three times. On two occasions he'd called to say he was stuck in the middle of a case; the third time he simply didn't show up as planned. Gibbs phoned Tony a couple of days later, sounding tired, to say he'd got tied up but would try to make it to the next game. He never explained what had prevented him from coming but Tony figured it was work related.

 

When Gibbs finally made it to a game, it was to see Tony playing like a champion, making a stunning touchdown and showing those Wolverines exactly who was the best team. Unfortunately, in the last quarter, a University of Michigan linebacker tackled Tony DiNozzo, sideswiping him in front of thousands of fans and taking him down hard. Tony never saw it coming.

 

The game against the Buckeyes' longtime rivals ended in a tie but before it was even wrapped up, Tony's unconscious body was loaded onto an ambulance. He was on his way to Columbus General with a broken leg and concussion.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

The first thing to return was his vision, although it was decidedly fuzzy. The second thing to come back was sound: beeping machines, someone barking orders and the bustling activity that could not be mistaken for anything except for the controlled havoc of an emergency room. Hard on the heels of sight and sound came pain – a lot of pain. Tony groaned and lifted his head but he was immediately held down by a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

Emergency room. Fuck! In place of his football gear was a flimsy gown. There was a needle stuck in his arm, and oxygen was being fed through tubes placed in his nostrils. Damn, he hated those things. Tony tried to remove the offensive tubing but someone took hold of his forearm and held it tightly by his side. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and saw a man's face hovering over him. Tanned face, gray hair, worried expression, blue eyes. "Gibbs?"

 

"Yeah, it's me, Tony. Stop touching stuff."

 

He tried to nod, swallowed hard and twisted to one side as his stomach lurched. Pain ripped through his leg and he immediately threw up. There was a basin held under his face and a strong, supportive arm doing all the heavy lifting, and then there was a plastic cup with water to rinse out his mouth. When it was over he collapsed on his back and someone wiped off his sweaty face with a damp cloth. God, it was Gibbs, tending to him like taking care of a college kid who was puking his guts out was his regular job. Tony was deeply embarrassed. "I'm fine." The moan that followed, along with tears brought on by the agonizing pain in his left leg, put an end to any pretense of being fine. "Shit, m-my leg," he panted.

 

A nurse injected the contents of a couple of syringes of meds into Tony's line and after a while the pain receded enough so that he could open his eyes. Gibbs was still there, and he was holding Tony's hand in his firm, warm grip.

 

"Fracture of the left fibula. Could be worse," announced the doctor, unaware of how unsympathetic he sounded. Or maybe he just didn't care. The doc went on about procedures and hospitalization but Tony couldn't retain any of the clinical jargon that droned on and on. Instead, he let the drugs sweep him away; he closed his eyes and shut out the bright lights, the doctor and his attendants.

 

He effectively shut out Gibbs, too, who had been looking down at him with emotions that didn't belong in his eyes – concern and something else that was indefinable. It was probably disappointment. Tony didn't want Gibbs to look at him like that, like he'd messed up, even if he had.

 

If Gibbs looked at him too closely Tony was afraid he'd see the fear he was struggling to hide deep inside. A broken leg meant an end to playing the rest of the season and, worse, it meant he'd miss his one chance to impress the scouts. Now he'd never make it to the pros. Never even get the chance he'd dreamed of, to prove himself, to Gibbs, even to his father. Not that he cared about what Dad thought. Not really. Just wanted the old man to admit he was wrong.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Tony slowly opened his eyes and looked around, trying to get his bearings. His brain felt like it was drowning in heavy syrup, reeling in slow motion. It slowly came back to him. The game. Sacked. Hospital. Shit, he had a broken leg. They'd said something about operating on it.

 

It was nighttime and he was in a brightly lit hospital room in Columbus, his leg encased in a cast and raised in a sling-type contraption. It throbbed badly, pain lurking just beneath the surface, muffled a bit by medications but still all-too apparent.

 

There, beside his bed, sat Gibbs. Tony blinked heavily and licked his dry lips.

 

Gibbs, clad in jeans and sweatshirt, poured a glass of water and angled a straw into Tony's mouth. After drinking, Tony lay back with a small grunt. Gibbs was standing still, like he was at attention on a parade ground. What was he looking at?

 

Gibbs frowned down at him. "How're you doing, Tony?"

 

Oh yeah, he was just fucking great, he thought. Tony took a calming breath. "Leg sorta aches." It was hard to speak and his voice sounded rough.

 

"How's your head?"

 

It was then that Tony realized he had a bad headache and his eyes hurt, too. Damn, a concussion. "Can you turn off the lights?" He raised his hand and it wasn't hard to locate the lump on the back of his skull. Only so much a helmet can do when a couple of 250-pound Wolverines take you down at the same time. He ran his hand across his ribs, making sure they weren't broken. They were damned sore though, especially when he breathed deeply.

 

Gibbs turned off the overhead lights, leaving on a bedside lamp. He pulled up a padded chair and settled in it, facing Tony, close enough that he could touch him, though he didn't.

 

After a while Tony said, "You don't have to stay, you know."

 

"I know."

 

Tony checked Gibbs out from the corner of his eye. The older man appeared relaxed, not really waiting for anything, more like he was hanging out. He kept his eyes on Tony most of the time, which was puzzling, because Gibbs wasn't looking at him like he expected him to speak, or perform, or confess. He seemed patient, almost content. Another weird thing to muse over. Tony's eyes roved around the room and then up the IV pole with its two half-empty bags that were feeding clear liquids into his arm through some tubing. Whatever was in them seemed to be working because he was feeling lightheaded and sort of out of it.

 

When he rolled his head on the pillow and met Gibbs' blue eyes again Tony felt compelled to say something. "You've got nice eyes, Gibbs." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that, but after a beat Gibbs bowed his head slightly as if in thanks.

 

"Same back at you, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a twist to the corner of his mouth.

 

"I mean, you pretend to be all mean Marine but you're a nice guy."

 

"Huh," Gibbs said, apparently not impressed.

 

"You don't have to stay here."

 

"You said that already, Tony. I know I don't have to. I _want_ to."

 

That made Tony feel warm inside but, as usual, he couldn't let well enough alone. "My father should be here soon. I'll be fine." He peered at the open doorway expectantly.

 

Gibbs' face settled into a mask of sorts, like he was angry and trying to conceal it. Tony wondered what he'd said to make him look like that.

 

Gibbs shifted in the chair as if it was suddenly uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "I phoned your father as soon as you got out of surgery. He can't make it."

 

Tony had known that his father wouldn’t come, but on some level he'd hoped that for once his old man would show he cared, even a little bit. "Oh." What was there to say? He nodded and looked away, trying to hide the stupid tears that pricked at his eyelids. "Yeah, he's really busy with work, you know. He can't just drop everything he's doing 'cause I messed up…"

 

Gibbs leaned forward and placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, and it was Gibbs' way of confirming that at least _he_ was there, and said quite clearly that he wasn't about to leave anytime soon. "You didn't mess up, Tony."

 

But Tony knew he had messed up and no amount of denying the facts was going to change them. "We lost the game?" He had a feeling someone had already told him the final score but he'd been too out of it to recall.

 

Gibbs sat back and his hand dropped away, leaving Tony feeling lonely and rather small.

 

"Tied, 13 to 13. It was a close game," Gibbs said. "And you did not mess up. You were sacked by that Wolverine, what's his name…Brad Pitt, and another linebacker. Nobody could have taken that kind of battering and walked off the field. You made a good move but they made a better play. It happens."

 

Tony looked at Gibbs, expecting to discover that he was lying. Except that Gibbs didn't lie, not as far as he knew. Tony had always been pretty good at reading people, though Gibbs was a tough one to see through most of the time. It took practice and intuition mostly, and Gibbs let his guard down more every time they met. Surprisingly, the ex-Marine seemed to be telling the truth. Or he believed what he was saying, anyway, so he could simply be delusional. "I'll be back on my feet and playing in a few weeks," Tony said bravely.

 

"Eight weeks plus therapy," Gibbs said without sugarcoating the facts. "You need time to heal properly or you'll get injured again, and then where will you be?"

 

"The season'll be over by then." It hit Tony that he'd missed his chance, his _only_ chance, to show the scouts what he could do. If he didn't make it into the pros he'd end up in the gutter, or worse – working for his old man. God, that would _kill_ him. Even though Tony would never agree to work for his father, that was what the old man kept pushing for, all the time treating Tony like he didn't know what he was talking about, patronizing him and insisting, 'Of course you'll work for me, Junior.'

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

After spending Christmas last year with Gibbs, Tony had taken a trip to New York to see his dad. Going into it, Tony had been hopeful, but in hindsight he clearly saw how stupid he'd been, willfully blind, and he'd literally smacked himself on the back of the head for being such a fucking idiot.

 

It was all Gibbs' fault. It was because of him that Tony had thought that there might be a chance of reconciling with his father. Being in Gibbs' company had suckered Tony into believing that there were people out there who might actually care. He had thought that if only he could get together with his dad, just talk to him, let him know that he had his own hopes and dreams, that Dad would see the light. Senior would turn to Junior with a smile on his face and he'd pat his back and say, "I wish you all the best, son." He might even say, "I love you," though Tony knew that was just a fantasy.

 

So his father had taken him out to dinner and they'd made it through the meal without any harsh words. No tables were tossed, no punches were thrown. Senior had even seemed interested in some of Tony's ideas about his future, and hadn't talked down to him, not even once. And when his father had started up again about how he expected Tony to come to work for him, Tony had been so relieved that his dad was actually talking to him that he had smiled and sort of, maybe, possibly agreed. Dumb. Just plain dumb, DiNozzo.

 

Within a week of returning to Ohio State, dear old Dad had sent Tony paperwork to fill out so he could transfer to some fancy university back east. Tony had never agreed to leaving OSU; the subject hadn't even come up so he ignored his father's attempt to orchestrate his future. Letters arrived covered in post-its directing him to 'sign here' and when Tony dumped the heavy volume of _The_ _Encyclopedia of TV Trivia_ on top of the papers and put them out of his mind – he was concentrating on studying for exams and didn't have any extra brain cells to spare – he started to get phone calls. Some were from his father, some from the secretary his dad was currently sleeping with. She called him _Antony_ , totally disregarding that there was an 'h' in his name, and that he'd told her repeatedly that his name was Tony.

 

Tired of being pestered, Tony went out and bought an answering machine, and put a message on it that announced to callers, 'I can't come to the phone right now because I'm playing with my balls. Leave a message at the beep.' If the message wasn't from Gibbs, Tony deleted it.

 

In the end he picked up the phone absent-mindedly one day and was confronted by his father's angry voice. They had a huge fight and just to get him to back off, Tony said. "I'll think about it." Somehow the old man had translated that to mean that Tony was giving in and that he'd change his major to business. It was too late for that, but Tony just let Senior think whatever the hell he wanted.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

"I need to get back to the team…"

 

"Your father wanted to make arrangements for you to go back to New York," said Gibbs, his voice low with disapproval.

 

"I can't." Tony struggled to sit up a bit but failed, falling back with a groan of frustration. "You don't understand, Gibbs. It'll kill me if I have to go back there. I'll be under his rule for the rest of my life," Tony moaned.

 

Gibbs reached over to where Tony's hand clung to the bed's safety railing and squeezed his fingers gently. "Hey, it's okay. I told him you can't be moved."

 

"You did?"

 

"Sure did. No point in dragging you across the country. I told him you were right where you should be."

 

Tony was overcome by Gibbs sticking up for him like that, and his eyes started to water. He turned away from Gibbs' piercing gaze and swiped at them, hating that Gibbs was seeing him like this. He tried to withdraw his hand but Gibbs didn't let go of it.

 

"Things'll look brighter in the morning, Tony."

 

Tony doubted that very much. Here he was, his sports career pretty much shot, or postponed if you wanted to wear rose-colored glasses. One broken leg. Check. One broken head. Check. One life that was messed up big time. Double-check. How could Gibbs still believe in him after all that? But, for some reason that Tony didn't understand, he did.

 

After a while Tony said in a small voice, "I guess…maybe the swim team."

 

"There's soccer. And wrestling."

 

Tony didn't reply for a long time. He closed his eyes, fully expecting for Gibbs to be gone when he opened them again, and was surprised to find he was still there, vigilant as always. Tony played with the edge of the blanket and licked his lips, and after a while he said tentatively, "Maybe while my leg is healing I can do some sportscasting for the college radio station. I did some basketball commentating at WOSU in my freshman year." It wasn't the same as playing football, though. Man, this whole thing sucked. Except for Gibbs being there. He didn't know what he'd do without Gibbs.

 

"Good idea. You do any boxing, DiNozzo?"

 

"No." He could picture Gibbs in the ring, gloves held high, jabbing, striking his opponent with powerful blows. Tony cringed, picturing himself being beaten to the mat, face pressed to the canvas. "Did you learn to box in the Marines?"

 

Gibbs seemed amused by the question. "No, the Marines don't teach you how to box. They teach you how to fight. I learned at our local boys club back home."

 

Tony was tired but he didn't want to stop talking with Gibbs. "You think you can teach me how to fight sometime, Gibbs?" He blinked heavily, barely able to keep his eyes open. He wondered where back home was for Gibbs. He pictured a small town, somewhere like Mayberry. Pop ran the general store, Mom stayed home and baked pies. Always a pot of fresh coffee on the stove.

 

"Sure, Tony. I'll teach you. You need to get some sleep because the nurse will be in to check on you every couple of hours. Get some rest while you can."

 

"Okay." His moved his hand, resting it on his stomach. Gibbs' calloused hand was on top of it, warm and heavy. "You goin' home now?"

 

"I told you I'm not going anywhere." Tony's eyes closed but as he drifted off to sleep he heard Gibbs say softly, "You can't get rid of me that easy, kid."

 

"That's good 'cause I need someone to watch over me." Even with his eyes shut, Tony managed a goofy grin as he said softly, "Follow my lead, oh, how I need…someone to watch over me." He roused himself enough to look at Gibbs once more, serious this time. "You gonna be my bodyguard again, Gibbs?"

 

"Always, Tony," Gibbs said under his breath. Then he ordered gruffly, "Go to sleep." He sat by the bedside with Tony's hand resting in his own. Gibbs sighed deeply as the young man succumbed to sleep. The sight of Tony's pale face, the slight downturn of his mouth put there because his dreams for the future had been cruelly dashed, tugged at Gibbs' heart. He had a feeling Tony was going to need him more than ever now, and he swore that he wouldn’t let him down.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 5 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 


	6. Subtitles

Warnings: Mild kink this chapter.  
This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x05, Dead Air

 

**Chapter 6 - Subtitles**

_Terence Mann: I'm going to beat you with a crowbar until you leave._  
Ray Kinsella: You can't do that.   
Terence Mann: There are rules here? No, there are no rules here.

_~ from the movie Field of Dreams, 1989_

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

_Arlington, Virginia, 2010_

 

Gibbs entered their bedroom bearing a mug of hot chamomile tea for Tony, who was sitting up in bed waiting for him. "You feeling better?"

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

He'd been nearly frantic earlier that day when Tony and Ziva were knocked flat by the bomb blast - until the smoke, reeking of chemicals and hot metal, had cleared. Then he saw Ziva lying on top of his lead agent, both of them laughing as if it was all a big joke. Gibbs hadn't missed how the Israeli woman had thrown herself on Tony to force him out of harm's way. He wasn't sure how badly Tony might have been hurt had he been standing when the explosive device blew sky high. It was entirely possible he might have been safe on the perimeter of the blast field, but the image of shrapnel tearing into Tony's flesh kept repeating itself in a disturbing loop.

 

Gibbs had sweated at how close a call it had been. His heart was still hammering in his chest when Tony - when both his agents - got to their feet, apparently unharmed. McGee had caught his boss puking behind the bomb squad truck, and had sent him a strange look but he had the sense to retreat without making a fuss.

 

Gibbs kicked himself. He'd allowed his emotions to get the better of him during an investigation and that, in turn, made him angry with himself. He'd been gruffer than usual with his agents until they'd all been checked out by the EMTs. They were unharmed, as were the spectators at the playing field, all lucky to have escaped serious injury, so he told himself to let it go. It wasn't an easy thing to do.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Tony had stood alongside Tim, chatting about _Field of Dreams_ like a couple of old geezers at a family picnic reminiscing about the good old days. Gibbs wouldn’t admit aloud that _Dreams_ was one of his favorite movies of all time - he was still off balance because Tony had come within inches of being blasted to hell yet there he was, standing around smiling and acting as if it was all nothing, a big fucking _nothing_. Gibbs had been so scared he'd felt like his heart was literally being ripped out of his chest the moment after the explosion. He'd been sure that Tony had been blasted into a thousand tiny pieces, so damned small that Ducky would have to collect the gory remains of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in those little glass jars. He'd thought, for those few terrible seconds before the smoke cleared, that Tony was gone - dead - and that he'd been left alone with nobody to hold onto at night to scare the demons away.

 

Gibbs had eased up a bit when Ziva had persuaded him to play catch on the baseball field. He'd locked his fears away, knowing that no good would come from displaying any emotion in front of his team. Later on, when he was alone with Tony - only then could he let some of it out.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Long afterwards, when they finally made it home, he noticed how quickly Tony's energy flagged. Tony kept insisting he was fine, though those words hadn't carried any weight for years. Although there was no outward sign that Tony was adversely affected by the strong blast wave, other than sore shoulders, Gibbs pushed his lover towards the bathroom for a long hot shower and then gave him a massage before supper.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

"Ducky says the tea'll help my throat," Tony said in a low, rasping voice. He sat back against his propped-up pillows, took the mug gratefully and sipped the steaming tea. Chamomile tea was not his favorite drink by any means, so he'd added a big spoonful of honey to make it palatable.

 

Gibbs slipped into bed next to Tony, careful not to jog him. "Ducky also said you were supposed to shut up for 24 hours. How about following that medical advice, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony spared Gibbs a sideways look. "Thought you liked the noises I make in bed, Jethro," he said with a wicked grin. His attempt to sound sexy failed when his words came out in a squeak.

 

Jethro shook his head and picked up his reading glasses and crossword puzzle. "Not if you sound like a chipmunk."

 

Affronted, Tony huffed and picked up the TV remote. "I think I sound more like Harvey Fierstein." Gibbs shot him a glance that clearly indicated he had no idea who Tony was talking about; he'd explain it to him another time. "I can order _Arlington Road_ for us to watch. So long as it isn't in Odorama with toxic grass cuttings I should be safe."

 

"No movies about predatory women either. Refusing that invitation to join Mrs. Bikini in her hot tub was a good move, DiNozzo."

 

"She lost interest as soon as I said I was married," Tony admitted with a sly smile.

 

Gibbs held back a smile that threatened to break through. "And you'd best remember that. Now stop talking."

 

Tony flipped through the channels and then stopped at a film he recognized. "Hey, look what's on! _Mute Witness_! It's about a makeup artist working on a slasher film in Moscow." Tony smiled even though his voice was rough and the occasional word rose in pitch to a squeak. "She witnesses a murder. The actress doesn't speak English but as the character is mute it's moot. Alec Guinness plays The Reaper. Seriously creepy." Tony sipped some tea then said, his voice fading to a mere whisper, "It'll bring back memories of your time in Russia, boss."

 

"Not interested in old times, DiNozzo."

 

"There's lots of Russian dialog with no subtitles. You can translate. I love to listen to you speaking Russian, Jethro," he cajoled.

 

Gibbs turned to glare at Tony over the top of his glasses. "Translate this," he said darkly.

 

Tony saw the threatening look Gibbs was giving him and said in his barely-there voice, "On the other hand, maybe not such a bright idea. A car bomb goes off in the film." He shuddered, not entirely an act.

 

"I'd have thought one explosion today would be enough for you, Tony. You should sleep." If Tony had been standing upright when the bomb went off he might have been sleeping on a slab in the morgue tonight. Gibbs kept that thought to himself. He knew he'd dream about it later on though.

 

"Yeah, well, Ziva's tackle kind of reminded me of the way Pitt took me down back in '93." Tony coughed and ground out, "At least she didn't break anything. Or I don't think she did." He put a hand to his ribs and winced dramatically.

 

"She was lying on top of you for a bit longer than was necessary, don't ya think?"

 

Tony's eyebrows rose and a delighted grin emerged. "Oh-ho, someone's a little green, are they?"

 

Gibbs feigned disinterest. "You think I'm envious? Nope. I wouldn't want Ziva on top of me, thanks all the same."

 

"Envy? I thought green was for jealousy." Tony's voice was nearly nonexistent but he kept on talking. "Have you ever wondered where these color choices representing emotions came from? I mean why is yellow all about cowardice? It seems like a happy color, all beaches, summer and sunshine."

 

Gibbs sighed and put his crossword puzzle aside. He stared straight at Tony and waited for him to stop talking.

 

"I can understand red though. The color of anger, passion, sex, flaring emotions. Hot red lips…What? Oh. Time to shut up, boss?"

 

"Ya think?"

 

Tony shrugged and croaked, "Can't help myself."

 

With an understanding nod, Gibbs sighed and said, "Yeah, I get that. Well, looks like you need some help from me." He leaned forward to give Tony a kiss, putting a lot of tongue into it. He drew back to ask, "Think some more of that'll keep you quiet?"

 

"Mmm," Tony replied with a smile. He put the mug of tea aside and gathered Gibbs in his arms. After a long kiss he nuzzled the underside of the older man's jaw and murmured, "So does green represent envy or jealousy? Because…"

 

Gibbs stiffened and moved out of the embrace.

 

Tony whispered, "What now?"

 

"Be back in a minute." Gibbs ordered, "Drink up that tea while I'm gone."

 

When Gibbs returned from the other room he held something behind his back. Tony, back to watching the film, asked, "You want me to turn off the TV?"

 

Gibbs grunted so Tony shut off the TV and paid attention to his lover, who was kneeling on the bed, facing him, and apparently waiting for his undivided attention. He looked at Jethro expectantly.

 

Gibbs asked, "Tony, can you breathe through your nose?"

 

The question itself wasn't odd considering the circumstances and his congestion earlier in the day, but it was the way Gibbs was asking it, as if he was leading up to something, that was a bit off. "Yeah, fine," Tony said suspiciously. He inhaled deeply to prove he could breathe through his nostrils with ease.

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yeah. Look, Jethro, I know my voice is sort of compromised but it doesn't hurt. Okay, it hurt when Ducky was gripping my throat with the ME version of the Vulcan death grip, and he's very strong, did you know that, but…"

 

Gibbs pulled out whatever he'd been hiding behind his back and, faster than Tony could imagine was possible, something firm and rubbery was shoved in his mouth. Gibbs rose on his knees, ignoring Tony's muffled protests and flailing arms, and fastened the straps of a harness around his lover's head.

 

Gibbs sat back on his heels with a satisfied look on his face. "There, that should do the trick."

 

Tony's eyes widened when he realized he'd been effectively gagged and muzzled. He tried to speak through the rubber gag but it was filling his mouth and pressing down on his tongue so he couldn't do more than make unintelligible sounds. "Mfffro! Ah doh nee iss. Ill ee quieh." Frustrated, Tony reached behind his head to undo the straps but Gibbs grabbed his hands and forced them down to his sides.

 

He pushed Tony flat on the bed with one of his Marine-style moves and held him in place with the weight of his body. "You are obviously incapable of keeping quiet, Tony, so certain measures need to be implemented. Now, can you breathe okay? Do not speak. Just nod."

 

Staring and wondering what the hell had got into Jethro, who never played with sex toys, like _never_ , Tony nodded. There must have been a hole in the gag because he discovered he was able to breathe through his mouth, which was good. Otherwise it might have been a little bit scary. Not sexy scary like an aggressive Jethro was, more like the can't-breathe scary that brought back unpleasant memories.

 

The bondage harness held his mouth closed and ensured there was no way to spit it out. That didn't mean that Tony didn't give it a damned good try, wriggling as he tried to dislodge it. Damn, why had Abby given him this gag in the first place? Well, he knew why - her heart was in the right place. He'd looked at it but never used it, nor even tried it out.

 

Gibbs wasn't into accessories but he seemed to enjoy the sight and feel of Tony struggling beneath him. "This is not a joke, Tony." Gibbs kept the pressure on Tony's arms to show who was boss. "You almost got killed out there today," he growled, "and if you can't speak when you go into work tomorrow Ducky is going to sideline you. Do you understand?"

 

It finally sunk into Tony's brain that this was one time he couldn’t win - or talk - his way out of a situation. He sighed, exhaling through the rubber tube, and gave in with a submissive nod.

 

Once Jethro saw him capitulate he stroked Tony's hair and smiled. "Later on you can explain me what you were doing with this gag in your bag of toys."

 

Well, it wasn't like he'd hidden his toys; he hung it in plain sight above his shoe rack in the spare bedroom closet. Belatedly Tony remembered that Jethro had said something about repairing the hinges on the closet doors. He must have been curious. Looked inside. Shit, did that mean Jethro was finally willing to bend a little? Images of leather straps and vibrating silicone butt plugs danced in Tony's mind. There was a slap to the top of his head and a warning look from Gibbs.

 

"I can see you thinking, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a low growl that emanated from the base of his throat.

 

That throaty tone certainly turned him on. Tony changed his tactics. He deliberately relaxed with a sigh under Jethro's firm hold and made what he hoped was a lost puppy dog plea with wide eyes. Tony let out a little whine. It came out muffled, which minimized the effect he was after.

 

"Forget it, Tony. You had your chance." Gibbs rolled off Tony and pressed the remote control into his hand. "Here, sit up and watch TV, and if you can keep quiet for an hour - and I mean no grunts, no whines, no squeaks - I'll remove the gag."

 

Gibbs went back to his crossword so Tony sat back against his pillows with a huff and turned on the TV once again, settling down to watch _Mute Witness_.

 

Gibbs wasn't entirely at fault here. Tony had been ordered not to speak for the sake of his vocal chords, but sometimes it was so hard to keep quiet when all those words were just dying to get out. He was like a kid who didn't know when to shut the hell up.

 

On the plus side, the rubber gag Jethro had forced into his mouth was making Tony really horny. The feeling of the rubber pressing down on his tongue, of having his ability to make a choice revoked, of knowing that Jethro was in control - all these worked together to give Tony a hard-on that was making him squirm. . .albeit silently.

 

He kept his eyes on the movie, which turned out to be pretty good, and began to stroke his cock to the tempo of the pulsating music. Suddenly a hand clamped down on his fingers, startling Tony into emitting a muted squeak.

 

Jethro fastened his eyes on Tony much as a hawk might upon its prey. "You do not touch yourself, Tony. You will wait until the gag is off and then I'll take care of you." He lifted Tony's hand from his groin and kissed his knuckles. "Do you understand? We're playing by my rules now."

 

Tony nodded, he hoped not too vigorously. He could tolerate an hour of being gagged, especially since he was looking forward to whatever Jethro was planning to do to him once the device was removed.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

His cock had softened during the previous hour, but as soon as Jethro turned off the TV and leaned over to remove the gag, Tony hardened once again. He watched Jethro closely, waiting for some kind of cue as the older man leaned over to gently clean a bit of drool off his chin with a corner of the sheet. Tony stretched his jaw muscles and ran his tongue around his mouth. There was some residue of a rubbery taste but it served to remind him of the erotic feel of the gag.

 

"You okay?" Gibbs peered at Tony, assessing him.

 

Tony didn't even think about speaking. He'd learned his lesson so he nodded.

 

"I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to heat up that tea. Stay put." When he returned, Gibbs handed his lover the hot drink. He waited for Tony to drink his fill before taking the mug from him and placing it safely on the bedside table.

 

Gibbs loved it that Tony was eagerly watching his every move, waiting for him to tell him what he should do next. "Get undressed and make yourself comfortable." He noted that Tony winced a little when he complied. "Your shoulders bothering you?"

 

Tony's hand reached up to massage his shoulder but he shrugged to convey it was nothing. He remembered, years ago when a rigged car had exploded behind him as he'd run for his life, how every muscle in his body had ached so badly in the aftermath he had barely been able to walk. That was back in the good old days, before he and Gibbs finally figured it out, over five years ago. So much had happened since, but he loved where the road had taken them. These muscle pains would go away by the next day and he wasn't about to let anything interfere with their lovemaking. Any discomfort he'd be feeling tomorrow would not be in his shoulders, he was sure. Tony shivered in anticipation but he didn't make a single sound.

 

Gibbs noticed Tony's uncharacteristic silence. Such acquiescence after only one hour with a rubber gag in his mouth, he mused. "Maybe I should take this gag with us to work, as incentive," he said. If Tony intended to reply, he never had a chance.

 

Gibbs straddled Tony and proceeded to kiss him insistently, delving into his mouth with his tongue until he drew out a whimpering moan. When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Gibbs hovered. He gently massaged Tony's shoulders, running his hands along the muscles of his neck with just enough pressure to extract a groan.

 

"Feels good," Tony said, his eyelids drooping, lips parting in a relaxed smile. "Mmm." Tony opened up his eyes fully and when he focused on Gibbs his expression changed to concern and then to understanding. "I love you, Jethro," he said, with a hint of sadness. "I know I can't tell you not to worry, but…"

 

"I don't want to lose you, Tony. Not like that. Not any way--."

 

His words were halted by Tony rising up to kiss him longingly, his hands caressing Jethro's back muscles with long, soothing strokes. "Shhh, it's all right," he whispered. He still sounded like he was speaking with sandpapered vocal chords but at least his throat didn't hurt.

 

Jethro buried his head in the crook of Tony's neck. He wrapped his arms around Tony, taking in his bulk, the hard planes and soft skin and scent that all added up to the man he loved so much it hurt sometimes. "It's not all right. One wrong move and…"

 

"Seems I've been making the right moves for some time now." Tony ran his hand through Jethro's hair to settle on the back of his neck, pulling him back for another kiss. "This is so right."

 

"Shhh…no talking," Gibbs ordered. "Unless you want me to gag you again."

 

Tony saw Jethro was serious, but he wiggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a crooked smile.

 

Jethro moved his hips against those of his lover until he squirmed and rose to meet him with a moan. "Maybe we need to look deeper into your bag of toys sometime, Tony."

 

"Promises, promises," Tony whispered.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 6 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Out of Chaos

**Chapter 7 - Out of Chaos**  

_Chaos is order to which you do not have the key.  
_ _~ Robert Derr_

 

December, 1992, Columbus, Ohio

 

The two flights of stairs in the OSU dorm were a bitch to negotiate with his leg in a cast but Tony climbed up and down them several times a day. With every step he cursed the Wolverine linebacker who'd broken his leg. Okay, it wasn't all Pitt's fault; Tony had finally accepted some of the blame for the risky move he'd made on the field, the one that was going to cost him a chance at a pro career. Now nobody wanted him, he thought morosely. It had helped – a lot – that Gibbs had stayed by his side for two whole days when he was in the hospital. Eventually Gibbs had to leave and Tony returned to class.

 

Tony struggled with his temporary handicap, refusing to admit defeat when faced by a few lousy stairs. There were plenty of cute girls who didn't mind carrying his backpack for him, or bringing food to his dorm room, but he still had to get to class. He couldn’t take anything but the mildest of painkillers and his leg ached like crazy, and for some reason it hurt the worst at about two in the morning. He was getting around okay until an advisor caught him literally falling down the last couple of steps at Nathaniel Hall, crutches flying, when he was hurrying to his biology class.

 

The college was concerned about liability and immediately sought alternate, ground-floor housing for him. Nothing was available in any of the dorms but, as fate would have it, one of Tony's AXΔ brothers had just left on an overseas exchange program and a room in the frat house became immediately available. He figured that someone must have pulled some strings to get him in there because there was a waiting list a mile long.

 

Once Tony moved in with his Alpha Chi Delta frat brothers a whole new world opened up to him; a broken leg did not hold him back. Parties, booze, games, pranks, freedom, fun, and girls in and out at all hours, even though there were house rules that said no visitors after 10 PM on weeknights. Apparently rules were not a priority with his frat brothers.

 

They were the best, his brothers, all eleven of them crammed into the big old Victorian house on the edge of campus that was christened 'Chaos Hall'. Never mind that there was faulty plumbing and a leaky roof, and the kitchen smelled like mice had died in the walls. There wasn't much privacy, and it was noisy and chaotic and not easy to concentrate on studies, but there was always someone to talk to 24 hours a day for support and simple camaraderie. These were not just roommates or fellow students, as far as Tony was concerned. They were brothers. It was just like having his own family – a big, rowdy, all-male family. To Tony, it was heaven.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_January, 1993, Columbus, Ohio_

 

"Hey DiNozzo, Salt-and-Pepper is out front, asking for you!"

 

Unlike the first time Leroy Jethro Gibbs had come to campus, Tony was expecting him. He smiled at the nickname that his frat brother gave Gibbs, but when he saw the scowl on the NCIS special agent's face Tony realized that Gibbs didn't like the reference to his graying hair.

 

Gibbs hunched his shoulders against the cold wind and growled, "You gonna let me in, DiNozzo, or do I have to join the brotherhood first?"

 

Tony opened the front door wide in invitation. "There's a secret handshake but if I show it to you I'd have to kill you." He couldn’t help grinning at the older man. Gibbs' expression remained dark but when he clapped Tony on his shoulder by way of greeting and Tony hugged him in a hard, spontaneous gesture, a broad smile emerged on Gibbs' face. "C'mon in," Tony said, heading off to his room.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Gibbs followed Tony, and noticed that he looked healthy, even if he had a limp. Happy, too, which was good. Back in December, when Tony had come to DC for Christmas – for the second year in a row – he had been on crutches, despondent about his broken leg and missed chances. They'd made the most of their time; took in a hockey game, did some target practice at the range, and together they managed to make a decent home-cooked Christmas dinner without burning down Gibbs' house. Tony had even talked Gibbs into going to the movies, a film about Charlie Chaplin that wasn't half bad, though it took a lot of prodding for Gibbs to admit it aloud. By the time Tony had headed back to Ohio he'd seemed in better spirits, and conversely Gibbs felt a bit down, missing Tony's company before Tony had even boarded the plane.

 

Gibbs removed his jacket and looked around at Tony's room. It was small, neat and clean despite being crammed with textbooks and papers piled high on the desk. A bicycle and weights took up one corner, and a too-large TV occupied precious shelf space. The walls were covered with posters of sports figures and bikini-clad women, and a bulletin board was overloaded with photos of friends, scribbled notes, postcards and an OSU pennant.

 

Gibbs reached out and opened a get well card pinned to the board, being nosy. It said, in a neat handwriting, 'Next time I'm down you can kick me, DiNozzo. Go Wolverines!'

 

"That's from Brad Pitt," Tony explained. "Here, sit," he said, sweeping a jacket and a couple of textbooks off the only chair in the room. Tony threw himself on his bed that was jammed up against the wall, and leaned back on one elbow, his long legs dangling off the edge.

 

"Pitt? That the guy who broke your leg?" Gibbs sat in the chair and found his knees almost touched the bed. He moved the chair slightly so he wouldn’t crowd Tony but he didn't really have anywhere to go.

 

"Yeah, the Wolverine. Nice of him to send the card." Tony smiled a little, apparently not one to hold a grudge even though that game marked the end to his dreams of a pro football career.

 

"How is it?"

 

"My leg?" Tony looked away and shrugged. "Okay. Got the cast off a week ago."

 

"You exercising it?" Gibbs hoped it didn't come across that he was interrogating the young man, but he felt compelled to voice his concerns. It wasn't as if Tony couldn’t take care of himself. He'd been pretty much on his own for several years now. Tony's father wasn't paying the bills, Gibbs knew. He had looked into it discreetly, and Senior hadn't seen his own son for almost a year. The fact that Mr. DiNozzo hadn't even turned up when his only son was hospitalized with a leg that was broken so badly that it required surgery, spoke volumes. Even if Tony was resilient, Gibbs needed to make sure that the young man knew someone was concerned.

 

Tony didn't seem to mind Gibbs questioning him. He replied nonchalantly, "Yeah, I'm working on strengthening it. Started physical therapy but I know the drill and I'd rather do it on my own. I missed the rest of the football season though." Tony's face lost its animation when he talked about his curtailed career but when he changed the subject he lit up again. "Hey, I'm going to Panama City for spring break! I went last year with my frat brothers and we had a blast. You ever been there, Jethro?"

 

Gibbs said, "Been to Pensacola. NCIS has an office there."

 

"Uh, that's not exactly the same thing, Gibbs. Don't you take any time off? You know, lie back on a beach, have some fun and take in the pretty girls." Tony gently prodded Gibbs' leg with his foot and wiggled his eyebrows. "Boy, did we ever have a great time last year. Hot sun, hot bands and even hotter girls!"

 

When he was about Tony's age Gibbs was in the Marines and was saving his pennies so he could get married. "No time for vacations," Gibbs said, shaking his head. Lately he'd been busy working cases, taking courses at FLETC, and learning everything he could from Special Agent Franks during their long hours investigating crimes. Gibbs loved his job, everything except the loss of life; he wasn't used to seeing civilians being killed. Lately he'd been working on short undercover assignments, and now they were talking about sending him overseas. That was one of the reasons he'd come to see Tony.

 

Gibbs let his eyes roam over Tony's jeans-and-sweater-clad body, up to his handsome face, with his lips parted in a rare, open smile, and those hazel-green eyes crinkling at the corners as he told Gibbs about the carousing that had gone on in Panama City.

 

Gibbs had spent a lot of time thinking about Tony recently and how Tony looked up to him as a father figure. Only he was nothing like Tony's absent father. He was more along the lines of a big brother to Tony, or perhaps could be cast in the role of an older, more experienced friend. Yeah, that seemed right. Only it wasn’t. He didn’t see himself as a big brother, or any kind of family member, for that matter. And the reason for that…well, it was frightening and a bit disturbing. He felt close to Tony, really cared for him in a deeply personal way. God, he couldn’t look at Tony that way, _couldn’t_. It wasn’t right or decent or responsible. What would Tony think of him if he knew? He’d be repulsed, feel hurt and betrayed, and that would be the end of their relationship. He’d never be able to see Tony again. Hell, Tony would turn his back on him and would never _want_ to see him, and why would he?

 

Only…he couldn’t change the way he felt about Tony, and those warm feelings, the genuine affection he had for the young man, they were growing stronger all the time. Gibbs couldn’t give him up. He couldn’t. So he’d have to suppress those feelings, act as if he was that big brother Tony needed. And what Tony needed was what was important. _I can do this. I must, for him._

 

“Gibbs? Hey, Gibbs? You okay?”

 

Gibbs realized that Tony had been talking about his upcoming spring break plans, and he'd missed most of it. “Oh, sure. Just…thinking. Go on.”

 

Tony sat up and lightly slapped at Gibbs' knee. "I was talking about girls. Women. You're not gonna stay single all your life, are you?" The young man's tone was light but there was a bit of concern in his expression.

 

Tony didn't know about Shannon, and Gibbs wasn't about to tell him, either. It was one of those topics he never mentioned, and just thinking about his family brought pain to Gibbs' heart. "It's hard to meet anyone because I spend all of my free time visiting this kid I know at Ohio State," Gibbs said with a straight face. When Tony's face fell Gibbs knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Hey," he said, slapping at Tony's leg. "I like to visit, to see how you're doing." Apparently his words were taken as the apology he intended because Tony nodded.

 

"Besides," Gibbs added, "I travel enough for work. And, uh, I am sort of seeing someone." He hadn't told anyone yet that he was dating a woman he'd met through work. Gibbs looked at his hands and admitted, "I only met her recently but we've gone out a few times." His stomach sort of clenched when he thought about making a future with this woman, a woman who wasn't Shannon. Everything inside of him, his thoughts and feelings, his very heart, were entwined with guilt, regret, yearning, and an inkling of hope. Sometimes he felt very much out of his depth.

 

Tony looked at him for a long moment then said, "You like her." The implication was that he thought that Gibbs liked her a lot.

 

Gibbs rubbed his eyebrow and smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Guess I do." He could feel the flush rising up his neck and wished he'd kept his damned mouth shut about his personal life. Gibbs inhaled deeply and said, "Look, one of the reasons I wanted to see you was to give you this." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Tony, who hesitated and then took it warily. "These are some people you can call if you need anything."

 

Tony unfolded the paper and looked at the names and numbers Gibbs had written out for him. His smile faltered. "Why would I need to call anyone?"

 

"You won't be able to reach me."

 

Tony's face went still, almost blank, with that closed-off look he got sometimes. Gibbs hadn't seen it much lately, not even when Tony had visited over the holidays. Naturally he'd been unhappy about his broken leg, and the way his father had ignored him, but Tony had been more open about his feelings than at any other time Gibbs had known him.

 

Gibbs had observed that Tony showed happiness easily but as soon as he was overwhelmed or upset he shut himself off. It was Tony's way of handling strong emotions but it wasn't easy to see the neutral façade he offered and know that he was hurting inside. Most people would look at Tony and see exactly what he wanted them to see, but not Gibbs. Tony was practiced at switching on and off like that, and it bothered Gibbs even though he'd seen it happen a few times now. He wondered at what age it had begun, and what had initially triggered the coping mechanism. He wasn't a shrink but he knew pain when he saw it, even when it was buried.

 

With his eyes lowered to the list of contact numbers, Tony said carefully, "You know, I'm not going to have any free time, what with studying and getting my leg into shape, and I'm up to my ears with work, too. Gotta keep the money rolling in." He rolled his eyes dramatically and continued, quickly, before Gibbs could get a word in edgewise. "Taking a course in massage as a backup. Yeah, I know, stupid to take on too much, but I'm making up for lost time from when I was laid up, and graduation is just around the corner. Time flies," he said with a strained laugh. "I've applied for this job over at the veteran's rehab center in Columbus, and the coach gave me a really good recommendation..." Tony's voice petered out and, unwilling to look at Gibb's face, he fixed his gaze instead at Gibbs' hands. Neither man said anything for a moment then Tony said in a small voice, "I think maybe it'd be better if you don't come here any more, Gibbs."

 

Taken aback at Tony's about-face, Gibbs edged forward until their knees touched. The young man was hunched over, crushing the paper with the phone numbers in his fist, his eyes glazed over like he was a million miles away. Gibbs reached out to lay a hand on top of Tony's, wanting desperately to make some kind of connection, to draw him back, fearful he'd somehow lost him. Tony withdrew slightly but Gibbs, unwilling to retreat, let his hand remain in contact with Tony's, not pressuring him in any way, but trying to assure him that he wasn't going anywhere.

 

He could see Tony's long eyelashes sweeping his cheeks, the faint shadow of youthful stubble on his upper lip, his tongue as it emerged to lick his lips in preparation for something he was about to say. Gibbs asked gently, "Is that what you really want, Tony? For me to stop visiting you?"

 

Tony pulled his hand out of Gibbs' loose hold, and raised his eyes to look straight at the older man. There was a flicker of connection and then Tony deliberately shut his feelings away. The switch had been thrown, once again. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Gibbs, but I'll be fine," he said in a cool tone.

 

It took Gibbs a few seconds to realize that he was being summarily dismissed. He stared into the young man's eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside his head, but Tony had a talent for hiding. All Gibbs could see was the same kind of polite façade you might find on the face of a car salesman. The guy would seem friendly enough when he shook your hand, but he'd have a hard time recalling your name next time you met.

 

Angry with Tony for pushing him away, for denying him the chance to help, Gibbs scowled and said, "I am not walking away, Tony. That's not gonna happen." Many men, some of them seasoned soldiers, had faltered when faced with Gibbs' glare, but Tony didn't give an inch. Gibbs had to give the kid credit for holding his gaze so steadily.

 

Tony dropped the crumpled paper in Gibbs' lap. "I don't need this. I don't _want_ it." he said tightly. "I don't need you, Gibbs." The implication was clear: he didn't need anyone.

 

Gibbs was hurt at Tony for treating him like he was a stranger, and a little angry at being rejected, and he made the mistake of letting his annoyance show. "You want to be left alone? Is that what you think you need?" he asked. "You gonna spend your life avoiding getting close to people, distrusting them? I'm not like your father, Tony. I'm not going to drop you or stop caring about you because it's inconvenient or because you don't agree with me." He reached out to grip Tony's shoulder, hoping that physical contact would bring Tony to his senses, would bring him back.

 

Tony raised one arm defensively and jerked back in alarm. "Don’t!" Eyes wide with fear, Tony quickly retreated until his back hit the wall with a thump.

 

Shocked at the boy's reaction, Gibbs' anger turned to concern. He raised his hands and assured him, "I'm not going to hurt you, Tony. It's all right." His voice exuded a calm that he did not feel. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to…" Damn it, what did he want? He'd been asking himself that question for a long time now and the only conclusion he'd come to, or the only one he would admit to, was that he wanted Tony to know that he cared for him. About him. Gibbs shook his head, knowing this shouldn’t be about what he was feeling. This was about ensuring that Tony felt secure and wanted.

 

Gibbs sat in his chair, making himself relax, hoping he appeared non-confrontational. It took a while but Tony lowered his arm, though he didn't move from his position on the bed, which was just about as far away from Gibbs as he could be in the small bedroom. He was pale and his eyes looked dark, and he seemed to be struggling to regain his composure.

 

Gibbs waited patiently. He could, of course, leave and give Tony time to get over whatever had spooked him, but Gibbs was damned if he was going to walk away leaving this…this ugly thing standing between them. It was unfathomable, after the time they'd spent together, that Tony would think he was capable of hurting him. Yet Tony's action, the way he'd cringed, was an accusation, sharp and painful. Suddenly, it hurt so much that Gibbs dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. "Jesus, Tony," he whispered. "How could you think that I'd ever lay a hand on you?"

 

It was a couple of minutes later that Gibbs felt a hand on his shoulder, a very tentative hand. He opened his eyes but didn't move, afraid he'd frighten Tony again. With his gaze lowered he could see Tony had moved closer, to the edge of the bed.

 

Then their knees met, Tony said cautiously, "I didn't mean it. I didn't really think you'd…"

 

Slowly, so he wouldn’t cause alarm, Gibbs raised his head and looked up to meet Tony's eyes. For once the younger man's emotions were exposed, raw and truthful, sending Gibbs a deeply apologetic plea.

 

"I'm so sorry, Gibbs," Tony said, his voice almost a whisper.

 

Gibbs wanted to demand what the hell had Tony been thinking, but instead he used all of his skills to keep his voice calm and non-threatening. "I'm sorry for startling you." He waited and saw Tony relax, so he continued, as cautious as if he was confronting a skittish animal. "I wasn't really angry with you, Tony, and even if I had been, you know…you _have_ to know I'd never _ever_ strike you. You do know that, right?"

 

Tony's eyes dropped and then looked up to meet Gibbs' eyes once again. He nodded. "I thought I'd…got over doing that." He hung his head. "Hasn't happened for a long time."

 

"It was my fault for losing my temper," Gibbs admitted. "I…" He had to think back to what had triggered this whole thing. "I gave you those phone numbers because…Look, I'm going out of the country on business. I wanted you to have some kind of backup so I wrote down some numbers. That's all. I want to make sure you have someone to turn to if I can't be around. That number," he said, pointing to the top one, "is for Tom Morrow, my boss. He's a good man and he'll always know where I am. He'll get a message to me. Understand? The other number is for a good friend of mine: Dr. Mallard – Ducky. He's the best man I know and he'll always be there to help you if you need anything, even if it's just someone to talk to. I want you to promise me you'll call them if you need something. No matter what it is." He waited to make sure that his words had sunk in and when Tony nodded, Gibbs smiled with relief and said, "Good boy."

 

Tony hung his head and his hair flopped over his forehead, but Gibbs could see the color return to his cheeks. After a minute Tony asked solemnly, "Where're you going? For how long?"

 

Reluctantly Gibbs said, "It's need-to-know. Federal business. I can't tell anyone, even if I'd like to. Maybe four months." Tony didn't look up so Gibbs added, "I always want to stay in touch with you, Tony." He wanted to know who the bastard was who had hurt Tony so badly that he'd recoil like that when a man showed anger. Gibbs had to work to control his temper, once again, knowing it wouldn't do for Tony to see the deep fury that flared inside him. It had to be his father, DiNozzo Sr., who'd done this to Tony. It was a good thing that Tony did not see Gibbs' expression at that moment or he would have seen the darkness in Gibbs' eyes, and that would have truly scared the shit out of him.

 

With a nod, Tony sat straighter and by the time he looked up, Gibbs had managed to put on what he hoped was a neutral expression. He almost laughed at himself, being annoyed earlier because Tony had put on a mask, and here he was, doing the same thing.

 

"Gibbs?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Why?"

 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question.

 

Tony cleared his throat and asked, "Why'd you keep seeing me? Inviting me to spend Christmas with you? Why'd you give me this?" He retrieved the list of contacts from Gibbs and worked to remove the creases from the paper.

 

"You do what you have to for family." Gibbs shifted uneasily in the chair. "You have family over at the holidays, talk to them, show how much you care about them. And that's what you and me are…family."

 

"Family? Really?" Tony's face brightened with the beginnings of a real smile but then he sobered. "It's going to be dangerous, isn't it? This assignment you're going on. You'll be careful, won't you?"

 

Gibbs assured him, "Don't worry, I'm good at what I do. Trained by the best."

 

"My bodyguard," Tony said fondly.

 

"Yeah, always on your six. Look, when I get back, how about you come and visit me? Think you can get some time off sometime in the summer? It'll give us both something to look forward to."

 

Tony smiled, one of his brilliant and all-encompassing smiles, the kind that lit up the whole room. Gibbs knew he'd carry the memory of it with him halfway around the world, just as he knew for sure that he'd done the right thing by coming here to tell Tony about his plans, face-to-face.

 

Gibbs stuck out his hand and Tony shook it but a second later the young man was in his arms, hugging him tight and saying in his ear, "I'll miss you, Gibbs."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 7 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~


	8. Understanding

Spoilers: Up to 2011, Season 8, 8x14 - A Man Walks into a Bar  
This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x06, Cracked

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 **Chapter 8 - Understanding  
** Arlington, Virginia, 2010 

_What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my life.  
_ _~ Walt Whitman_

 

Tony hugged Gibbs from behind, cramping his style as he prepared their dinner. Gibbs didn't make any attempt to dislodge the big man whose arms were wrapped around his waist, and when he leaned to his left to grab a coupe of peppers off the kitchen counter, Tony moved with him. In synch, as always.

 

Tony rested his chin on Jethro's shoulder and said softly, "She had eleventeen Caf-pow!s, you know. That's probably twice as much caffeine as your required daily intake of java, Boss."

 

Jethro stilled for a moment, then finished cutting up the peppers as if he hadn't heard what Tony had said. With a nudge and a step he moved out of Tony's grip and over to the frying pan on the stovetop. Once he had the meal cooking he turned to meet Tony's gaze, knowing he was expected to say something. He hadn't spoken since they got home, unless you counted a few grunts. They didn't usually bring cases home, but this one had affected all of the team and was proving to be hard to shake. Gibbs let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and finally said, "Abby lost her perspective." What he didn't have to say was 'like the victim lost hers' because Tony was well aware of how lost the late Lieutenant Clea Thorson had been.

 

Tony kept eye contact for a long moment, apparently seeking something. He must have been satisfied because he turned away and opened the fridge. "Beer or wine?" He held up a bottle of white wine, imitating a waiter by extending it so Jethro could view the label. "It is a tart, fruity wine. One might say it is a tad frisky." Tony wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Unable to prevent a smile, Jethro lowered his head to hide his expression. It didn't work because a second later Tony was sidling up to him, the length of his body warm and welcome, his lips pressed to his forehead.

 

"I knew there was a smile hiding in there somewhere. C'mon, she'll be fine, Jethro," Tony assured him. "Abby is nothing like Thorson."

 

Jethro sighed and looked away, unwilling to let Tony see how upset he'd been, and still was, over the way Abby had become overly involved with the dead Lieutenant. But Tony wasn't having any of it. He remained close, holding onto Jethro's arm, anchoring him until he felt compelled to look up. There was compassion in Tony's eyes, as well as love, but it had become obvious that there was more to Jethro's reaction about the case than he was letting on.

 

Jethro shifted his weight uneasily. "Abby said I didn't understand. When I raised my voice to her."

 

"You had to snap her out of it, Jethro. Better than slapping her across the face," Tony said lightly. He absently stroked the back of his own head, on the spot he most often received reprimands from his boss.

 

Jethro shook his head. There was more to it than trying to shake some sense into Abby, but he didn't really want to get into it. He turned away from Tony and stood silently at the stove, stirring the sizzling chunks of beef and vegetables. Tony poured them each a glass of wine and set tumblers of water on the table, and seated himself. He knew enough not to push but Jethro could see Tony was worried. Once their dinner was ready Jethro served up, and throughout their meal their conversation was limited to small talk. It was only after they'd eaten most of their dinner that Jethro felt like opening up about what had been left unsaid.

 

"When I was a kid I used to visit my Aunt Netty sometimes. Dad sent me over to help out in the yard. I mowed the lawn, that kind of thing." Jethro stopped long enough to finish up his glass of wine. Without being asked, Tony poured him another glassful. It gave Jethro enough time to think about his wording. He didn't like to hold back where Tony was concerned, but it would be less painful if he kept it short.

 

"One day when I went over there…it was on the other side of town so I biked over…I found her sitting on the floor of the kitchen opening every bottle and can of food from her pantry and emptying their contents all over the floor. Rice and peaches and…It was a mess. Looked like a tornado had been through there." After a pause he said, "Aunt Netty was the sweetest, nicest, _sanest_ aunt a kid could ever have. This wasn't her. It wasn't her!" Jethro reached for his glass of water and stared sightlessly at it. All he could see was his aunt seated on the worn linoleum kitchen floor that she washed clean every Saturday morning without fail, and took such pride in, now covered with the spilled contents of her pantry. There were peas, sliced peaches in syrup, ketchup, beans, and flour all over herself and the floor - a broad palette of textures and colors highlighted with yellow corn and bright pink beet juice.

 

Slowly Jethro continued. "She was talking to people who weren't there, acting crazy, her hair wild and…screaming at me that I didn't understand." He couldn’t go on, overwhelmed with the feelings he'd had as a kid. "I was scared shitless, let me tell you, but I tried to get her up, to talk to her." His hand went to his cheek. "She hit me. I'd never been hit in the face before, not even by my own parents." Then Tony's hand was on top of his, sympathetic and warm. Jethro swallowed and said, "I ran like hell and rode my bike as fast as I could to get Dad. I was bawling by the time I got home, but Dad seemed to know what I was getting at."

 

Jethro finally met his lover's eyes. "I never saw her again," he said with a kid's sense of bewilderment bleeding into his adult voice. "Eventually Mom told me Aunt Netty was being taken care of in a sanatorium." He dropped his gaze to the table where Tony's fingers were interlaced with his. "She died couple of months later. I wasn't supposed to hear…they said she killed herself. I kept thinking I should've stayed with her that day, that I could've got through to her. I blamed myself for not trying harder to bring her back from whatever hell she'd sunk into."

 

"Jethro, you were just a kid," Tony protested. "You couldn’t do--."

 

"No, it's okay, Tony. It's okay now. I know I couldn’t have made any difference. Apparently she'd been going downhill for some time and I'd just never been aware of it. The kid's the last one to know." He grunted and stood, taking the dinner dishes over to the sink, needing to get up and moving, to shake off the past.

 

Tony said in a firm voice, close behind him, "Abby is not your aunt."

 

"I know, I know," Jethro said, almost angrily, hands gripping the edge of the sink, knuckles white. He knew, he did, but the look in Abby's eyes when she'd accused him of raising his voice, of not understanding her. It brought it all back. "It's all right, I do understand," he whispered.

 

Tony was there once again, turning Jethro around and hugging him tight, his silky hair brushing against Jethro's cheek. "Abby knows that, Jethro. You talked to her before you left, didn't you?" Jethro nodded a response. "C'mon," Tony said. "Let's go upstairs."

 

Jethro glanced at the wall clock. "It's only nine. Don't you want to…"

 

"I have better things to do than watch a movie." He quickly silenced any objections with a deep kiss, his hands caressing Jethro's back. "Mmmm," Tony murmured with a sigh. "Let me take care of you."

 

Jethro kissed Tony tenderly and ran his hands down to fondle his muscular ass, pinching it for added measure.

 

When their mouths parted Tony grinned. "Oooh, I do believe that frisky wine has taken effect."

 

Smiling in response, Jethro nodded. "Upstairs. Now."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Tony was always able to soothe him, with a hand on his shoulder or cheek, with a stroke across his skin, gentle yet firm. Tony's lips brushed across Jethro's throat, the rasp of his tongue on the underside of his jaw causing the older man to raise his chin and offer himself to his lover. Jethro allowed himself to become lost in the sensations, lost in Tony, in the magic of his talented lips and teeth and hands, of his hard and leaking cock, that possessed and caressed and touched and entered him - and gave him what he so desperately craved.

 

Their bodies close together, tangled limbs, quick breaths and moans and shouts of "hurry, do it harder just _harder_ ," with pleasure and need overwhelming any semblance of ordered thought. Panting and thrusting back against the hot shaft that took him hard from behind, the merging of their sweaty bodies, moving together until he couldn’t tell where he ended and he . . . _he_ began. Words that were no more than sounds, guttural and full of fury, urging each other on, demanding and entreating, crying out their mutual need. The pounding in his ears so loud, his back arching and ass clenching and then hot seed spilling inside his body, and the release and surrender, the utter chaos of it all making sense. . . a final, profound sense.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders, Jethro drew him to his chest, stroking his damp hair as he whispered, "It's all right. It's all right now." He didn't know if he was comforting Tony or if those words were really for himself, but they helped them both get through the night.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 8 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 


	9. Memories

**Chapter 9 - Memories**

_Dreams are supposed to represent your subconscious wishes and conflicts. It's sort of a private movie you write, produce and direct. Only you can't hide your eyes in your dreams, even when they are scaring you to death._

_~ Thomas[Magnum](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Magnum) in 'Memories Are Forever' _

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

_July 30, 1993, Columbus, Ohio_

 

"Yeah, I'm getting a ride with a buddy as far as Baltimore. I dunno. Guess I'll hitch … no… yeeees… You know, I'm not a kid, Gibbs." Tony scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the ratty carpet in the frat house's hallway and cradled the telephone between his jaw and his shoulder. "Yes, sir. I mean yes, Gibbs, I'll take the bus." He smiled into the mouthpiece. "Bet you say that to all your friends. See you soon."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_July 31, 1993, Arlington, VA_

 

The day before Tony arrived in DC, Gibbs told his wife that a college kid was coming to work with him on the boat for the rest of the summer. Gibbs didn't give away any more information than he absolutely had to. He wouldn't have said anything at all except that Tony was going to be staying at the house and there was no way she'd miss the presence of a houseguest.

 

That night, when his wife accused him of being a mute bastard and slammed the bedroom door in his face, Gibbs sat on the deck he’d built himself, with a beer in his hand, and looked up at the stars. He gave some thought about why he'd been so tight-lipped about Tony's visit.

 

Gibbs didn't want his wife to meet Tony. He’d had a feeling, soon after they'd tied the knot, that the marriage wasn't going to last. She was transient, passing through, but Tony, he was part of Gibbs' life now, a permanent fixture, one he didn’t want to share. But most of all, he was afraid that if his wife saw him and Tony together, she’d see what the young man really meant to him. She was perceptive like that.

 

He'd tried to make his second marriage work, he'd tried damned hard. The job got in the way though that wasn't the whole reason the relationship had hit the rocks. Maybe his expectations had been too high. He'd taken it for granted that she'd just understand him, as Shannon had, without having to constantly explain things and talk about his feelings. Gibbs rubbed his eyes and sighed. Shannon got it, so why didn't she?

 

Ducky was the only person he'd told about Tony, and that was because the ME was the closest thing Gibbs had to a friend. He had trusted Ducky to take care of Tony in his absence, which is why he'd given Ducky's phone number to Tony in the first place.

 

After a rare bout of soul searching, after he'd progressed from beer to bourbon, Gibbs conceded that he was a possessive bastard, and more than a little fond of the kid, and that he alone was ultimately responsible for Tony's wellbeing. Not that Tony was a kid any more. Not that there was anything wrong with caring about him, either. At least with Tony he didn't have to talk about his damned feelings. Tony just seemed to know.

 

Gibbs was looking forward to Tony's visit. He hadn't seen Tony since he'd attended his commencement ceremony at Ohio State back in May. Gibbs had felt inordinately proud that day, watching Tony accept his degree. Afterwards, he'd seen the young man search the crowd of family members until he located Gibbs; Tony had smiled widely, so damned happy, so full of promise. Once again, Gibbs wondered how Senior could waste yet another chance to be there for Tony, and on such an important day in his son's life.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_Earlier, in May, 1993, Columbus, Ohio_

 

Gibbs was surprised to discover that in addition to Phys. Ed. degree Tony had also earned a BS in Criminal Justice, in crime analysis. "I didn't want to say anything in case I flunked out," explained Tony, flushing when his achievement was revealed and Gibbs let it be known how proud he was of him. "Uh, and there's more. I talked to an agent and he's scheduling for me to go to some open tryouts for pro football."

 

"Hey, that's great, Tony."

 

"Well, I don't know if anyone'll be interested in me, but at least I have a chance."

 

"What does your father say about it?" Gibbs didn't bother to look around to see if DiNozzo Sr. was present. Although neither Gibbs nor Tony was surprised at the no-show, Tony struggled to hide his disappointment.

 

"My father?" Tony tensed a bit, his normal reaction whenever his father was mentioned. He managed to paste a somewhat convincing smile on his face when he suggested, "Uh…what he doesn't know won't hurt me?"

 

"You tell him anything?"

 

Tony shook his head. "Not going to, either, unless he asks me directly. I don't need his approval any more."

 

Gibbs doubted that Senior would be any more pleased about Tony's interest in criminal justice than he was about Tony studying physical education. Senior would never give his son credit where it was due. Even though he was sure that the answer would be ‘No,’ Gibbs asked, "You planning on going home anytime soon?"

 

"Home?" Tony looked puzzled. "Oh. No, I don't….I guess I don't have anywhere to go." He shrugged. "I'm sticking around here. That job at the VA is lined up. Thanks for putting in a good word for me, Gibbs."

 

Gibbs _had_ talked to the supervisor at the local VA, but he didn't know how Tony had figured that out. He cleared his throat and asked, "You even talk to your dad?"

 

Tony bit his lower lip and studied the ground. "Last time I called my father we had a sort of 'Red River' moment." He caught Gibbs' quizzical look and prompted, "You know, John Wayne and Montgomery Clift?"

 

Gibbs knew the movie but he wasn't sure how it applied. He raised an eyebrow, sure that Tony would explain.

 

"'Red River' was Howard Hawks' first western, in 1948. Cattle drive, conflict, father and adopted son fighting it out until they came to terms with each other," Tony said. "In the book, the father bites the dust, but the movie was more upbeat. Reconciliation and manly looks instead of hugs." He punched Gibbs playfully on the arm to illustrate his point, and then looked thoughtful. "I wonder which it'll be between Dad and me? Hugs or a fight to the death? You want to guess which ending I'd like to see?"

 

"Life ain't like a movie, Tony," Gibbs said, more harshly than intended.

 

Tony tilted his head to one side and seemed to be weighing Gibbs up. "There's this line in 'Red River' that says a man should celebrate when he gets married, when he has kids, and when he finishes a job he had to be crazy to start. You don't think that's what real life is all about?"

 

Gibbs looked at Tony for a long moment, wondering if the young man really believed that there were storybook endings and that life imitated film. If so, he was in for some big disappointments. In the end Gibbs kept his thoughts to himself and said, "My offer's still open. Come to DC in August. If you can get any time off that fancy new job of yours."

 

Tony met Gibbs' eyes to verify his sincerity. "You mean that? You really want me to visit?"

 

"Isn't that what I said, DiNozzo? It isn’t going to be all days at the beach though. I'm gonna work your ass off."

 

Despite the warning, Tony appeared to be inordinately pleased at the invitation. "Thanks, Gibbs." Tony threw his arms around Gibbs and gave him a big hug. As soon as he released Gibbs, Tony immediately said, quite seriously, "So, we need to talk about this weird belief you have that life isn't like a movie. Didn't your parents teach you anything, Gibbs? I thought you grew up in Mayberry where the cop was your second cousin and didn't carry a gun, and you waxed the front step of the old folks' home for fun."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

_August 1, 1993, Arlington, VA_

 

Tony knocked on the front door of Gibbs' home mid-morning on the first day of August. It was soon opened by a striking redheaded woman who looked him up and down in such a way that Tony wondered if he'd put his shirt on inside out or something. Without cracking a smile she motioned him inside. Lined up in the foyer were several suitcases, tote bags and a huge straw hat.

 

Tony thought, 'Long trip. Beach resort. Expensive luggage, good taste.'

 

"He's not here," she said in a flat tone as she picked up a couple of the smaller bags.

 

"I'm Tony DiNozzo, ma'am," he said politely, looking with interest at the little he could see of Gibbs' home from the foyer. "Is Agent Gibbs at work?" It was a weekday so Tony didn't really expect to find Gibbs at home. Considering the withering glare Tony received from Gibbs' wife he couldn’t blame the guy for working long hours.

 

"Your guess is as good as mine." From the weary way Mrs. Gibbs spoke, she must have said the same thing a hundred times before. "You know him? Where do _you_ think he is?"

 

Apparently Mrs. Gibbs wanted an answer, so Tony said, "Work."

 

"Guess you do know him. After all, there are only two words in Leroy's vocabulary," she said tartly. "Work and boat."

 

When she pressed past Tony, he flattened himself against the wall, but a lifetime of training to be polite kicked in and he grabbed the remaining luggage and hurried after her. She didn't take any time arranging her things in her open sports car; just took her bags and tossed them on the back seat. Tony wanted to ask what the big hurry was but the woman, though beautiful and this side of thirty, and had a brittle edge to her that reminded him of his father's second wife. He shrank inwardly and decided he wasn't going to ask her how to get hold of Gibbs. It was way too early in the day to be slapped down, even by such a good-looking woman.

 

Mrs. Gibbs snatched her big hat out of Tony's hands, pulled her car keys from her purse and got into the driver's seat. For the first time, she stopped long enough to look Tony in the face. She sighed and said, "Look…what's your name?"

 

"Tony," he supplied.

 

"Look, Tony, you seem like a nice young man. Do yourself a favor and don't waste your time trying to be his friend. Leroy has a damned hard shell and you'll only find more of the same inside. You'll be nothing but disappointed and it'll only sap the life right out of you." She frowned at him. "How long are you staying?"

 

"I'm here through August, Mrs. Gibbs."

 

"Hmm. If you last more than a week you'll earn yourself a medal. Just ask him to give you one of his; he has plenty to spare."

 

Tony was still trying to compare the Gibbs he knew with the man that this woman saw, when she put on her sunglasses and started the car.

 

"He left you an envelope on the kitchen counter." She gave a humorless laugh. "More than he's ever done for me." She backed her car down the driveway and drove off quickly, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

 

Tony watched the car disappear down the street, troubled that he'd dropped into the final moments of a marriage gone sour. He'd seen enough of his father's marriages fall apart to recognize the signs. All Tony could think of was how upset Gibbs was going to be, and how he'd do his best to help him through a tough time.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

There were boats of all shapes and sizes parked in the big lot, some of them hulking working vessels covered in tarps, some small motor boats. Most were in various stages of repair or refurbishment, with the engine parts and boating equipment unique to a marina piled around their landlocked bodies. The hull of the boat that Gibbs was working on loomed high above him, supported by stabilizing metal stands and blocks.

 

Tony shaded his eyes from the glaring sun and scoped out the large sailboat in dry dock. "Wow, she's…big…and…and…"

 

"Never thought I'd see the day, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a shake of his head.

 

"See what day, Gibbs?"

 

"The day you were at a loss for words," Gibbs said with a straight face as he wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. "Sandpaper's there," he said by way of greeting.

 

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his back pocket, slipped them on and studied the wooden hull that had seen better days. "You treat all your guests to such a fine welcome?"

 

"Only the guests I like," Gibbs retorted, wanting nothing more than to give Tony a big hug. He also wanted to tell Tony that he wasn't a guest, but he refrained. “Only you’re not a guest, You’re working for me now.”

 

Tony gamely picked up a sandpaper block and watched Gibbs to see how it was done. It appeared that Gibbs had been stripping off the old paint and caulking and repainting the part that would be submerged in the water. Not that Tony knew anything about boats from this perspective. "Last time I was anywhere near a boat, I had a cute girl on my arm and a cold drink in my hand," he said with a grin.

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Gonna be a long summer,” he griped.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Gibbs had already planned to give Tony room and board and some cash in exchange for helping him refinish the old 50-footer. It was hard work, work that Tony wasn’t used to doing, but he didn’t seem to mind being told he wasn’t a guest. He grinned and started right in on sanding the old finish off the boat.

 

Within a few minutes Tony had divested himself of his t-shirt and was talking up a storm. He told Gibbs how his frat brother's pickup had broken down just outside Baltimore. They'd had to wait for a part for the truck until the next morning so they'd slept in the flatbed but it had rained. "Not exactly the best night's sleep I've ever had." Finally, splitting from his friend, Tony caught a bus from Baltimore to DC, and made his way to Gibbs' house. "I found your note with the directions. Hope you don't mind I borrowed your bicycle to get here. I pumped up the tires but third gear keeps slipping."

 

Gibbs tuned out the chatter and tried not to look, too often or too obviously, at the half-naked young man. Shit, Tony was tall and lean, with a basketball player's muscles. His skin was smooth as a girl's across his tanned back, and when he turned…his chest…those brown nipples…a smattering of chest hair…and more hair leading down his belly to disappear under the waistband of the faded jeans that hung low on his hips.

 

Jesus, what had gotten into him, leering at him like that? "With the grain, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked. He stopped to take a deep draught of water from the cooler he'd set nearby in the shade, when what he really wanted was something a whole hell of a lot stronger, like a stiff drink.

 

Gibbs got his act together and managed to work alongside the young man, occasionally showing him what to do. "Good, that’s it,” he said encouragingly. When Gibbs stopped to take a drink of water from the cooler he'd set nearby in the shade, he realized that despite Tony's constant jabbering, he was really happy that Tony had taken him up on his invitation.

 

From the intel that Gibbs had gathered from Tony's supervisors at the VA health center – just to make sure he was settling in all right, Gibbs told himself – Tony was 'well-liked, motivated and sharp as a tack.' He was also a 'pain in the ass who needed a firm hand.' That last comment had come straight from the lips of a seasoned military nurse at the VA who took no crap from anyone, and despite her critical comment, she made it clear she thought the world of Tony.

 

Tony slipped his sunglasses off his nose, stuck them on top of his head, and squinted at the length of the big boat. He rubbed his bare stomach, and from where he stood, Gibbs could hear it rumble with hunger. "You eat anything today?" Gibbs realized they'd been working all afternoon and had only stopped for water and bathroom breaks.

 

Tony shrugged. "Got breakfast."

 

Gibbs grunted. That probably meant Tony had grabbed some fast food on the way here.

 

"She's looking good," Tony said with a satisfied smile. "How many hours a week do you spend here?"

 

"Not enough. I don't often get a whole day to work on her, but my boss got himself a new probie and I was overdue for a day off. Sometimes I come down here for a couple of hours after work, if there's any daylight left." Lately, he was lucky if he made it home from work by ten most nights. If Mike Franks hadn't taken on another investigator, Chris Pacci, Gibbs wouldn’t have had any time off at all. He glanced at his watch. "Getting on for 6:30. We'll go find some food soon."

 

Now he had a 22-year-old to take care of he'd have to stock up on groceries. He wondered if there was anything to eat in the house and, more importantly, if his wife had left, as planned, that morning. No way was he taking Tony back home if she was still there. But then he remembered that Tony had been at his house, and had read his note, otherwise he’d never have found his way to the boatyard.

 

As if reading his mind, Tony said, "I met your…uh…Mrs. Gibbs as she was leaving. I think she packed the kitchen sink in her luggage."

 

Gibbs tensed but didn't say a word.

 

Tony looked away to check his reflection in the side mirror of Gibbs' pickup, which was parked next to his boat. He tweaked his hair and said, almost formally, "If it's not convenient for me to stay at your house, I can make other arrangements." After a pause, Tony looked up at the boat and said, "Maybe I could sleep here."

 

If Tony had met his wife, he'd probably correctly assessed Gibbs' marital situation right off the bat. "Don’t worry. She won't be around," Gibbs said gruffly. Not until summer was over; her sister had a place on some island off Massachusetts where men wore linen suits, women had lawn parties, and everyone set their watches to beep at cocktail time. She wouldn’t be back, she’d made that pretty clear. Their marriage had taken a nosedive within a month of their vows, and he'd grabbed at the first overseas assignment that came his way. Not that Bosnia had been much of a picnic but, in retrospect, getting shot at seemed preferable to getting shot down.

 

His wife had expected something of Gibbs that he could never give, and for some crazy reason she had presumed that marriage would change him. Or that _she_ could change him. He wasn't the kind of man who opened up easily, if at all. He was more the 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy. It didn't take her long to realize that Gibbs was unable, or unwilling, to be the man that she expected him to be. Shannon was the only woman who had ever seen him for who he really was, and even with her there had been some difficult moments.

 

Right now Gibbs couldn’t see much past his anger, which was directed at himself more than at his soon-to-be-ex. He found he wasn't so much upset that the marriage had disintegrated, as he was that he'd been blind, and had fallen into the trap in the first place. It wouldn’t happen again, he swore.

 

Tony eyed Gibbs with more interest than sympathy. "Was being married more than you bargained for – or less?"

 

He'd forgotten how astute the kid was. "She hates my line of work," Gibbs found himself saying. "Hates my long hours, hates me going undercover." She hated the stains that wouldn't come out of his clothing, the middle-of-the-night phone calls from Franks, his allegiance to job first and foremost. She hated that he wouldn't tell her everything, even though they both knew she'd hate what he'd have to say if he _did_ let it all out. "She hates when I'm gone. Hates me even more if I'm at home for more than a couple of hours. Can't win for trying."

 

Gibbs picked up a new sheet of sandpaper and went back to work, leaning into the hull with each sweep of his arm. He could feel Tony's eyes following him, his intent gaze burning into the back of his head. All of a sudden, he felt trapped and irritated, knowing that Tony was watching him. He didn't want Tony to be a witness to what he was going through; it was the kind of thing a man had to deal with on his own.

 

"Is this your boat, Gibbs? I mean are you planning on sailing her around the world once you're finished, like Nicole Kidman and Sam Neill in 'Dead Calm'? Hopefully without any psychotic men coming aboard."

 

Gibbs said sharply, "As soon as she's finished, she's going up for sale, that okay with you? Now are you gonna pitch in, DiNozzo, or is this too much manual labor for you? Maybe you've realized this isn't what you expected and want to bail out." Gibbs knew that he wasn't being fair but ever since he returned from Bosnia these dark moods would just come over him without any notice. No telling what would trigger them, either; he'd be fine one minute and then something would set him off. He hated that he sounded pissed when he said, "Maybe you should go, too." Gibbs regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth. He tensed, waiting for Tony to get angry and leave, closing his eyes tight, wishing he didn't feel like he was going to explode at any moment.

 

When Tony spoke from somewhere behind Gibbs, he sounded worried. "You can always count on me, Gibbs. I don't hate you. I could never…"

 

Gibbs froze, his hand flat on the hull of the boat. How was it that Tony could tolerate him when his own wife couldn't? "Yeah, well, just give it some time," Gibbs sneered.

 

Tony walked up to him with careful steps, until he was so close that all Gibbs had to do was straighten and they'd probably touch.

 

"I'm not going anywhere, Gibbs. I've got your six," Tony assured him in a low tone, barely above a whisper. "Remember when you first came to my apartment? You said we should see if we could survive before we made any long-term plans. I think we've survived pretty well so far. I got through college and have some good, solid plans for the future. I would not have that if it were not for you.” Gibbs made a motion with his head, of denial, but Tony said, “Don’t shake your head. It’s true. And you, you have a job you love, a really important one. You make things better for people every day of your life, Gibbs, and not many people can say that. You've made it better for me. If you hadn't encouraged me I wouldn’t have gone to those tryouts and, okay, not getting picked up for a team wasn't exactly the highlight of my life, but at least I tried. I'd have always wondered and now I know. Now it's time to take the next step. That’s what you’ve shown me, that I can do this, and that I’m not alone."

 

Gibbs froze, his hand flat on the hull of the boat. Shit, what had Tony read between the lines? How was it that a kid could see right through him when his own wife couldn't? Tony walked up behind him with careful steps, until he was so close that all Gibbs had to do was straighten up, and his back would make contact with Tony's bare chest.

 

When Gibbs didn’t respond, Tony said softly, "You can always count on me, Gibbs. I love you, and I've got your six, always.”

 

Gibbs found he was breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he was afraid Tony would hear it. It was all too much, all this, Tony’s declaration of loyalty, his understanding, his assurance he’d always be there for him. He’d said he loved him. Tony _loved_ him. God, he wanted to take that and run with it, but he couldn’t. No matter how Tony felt about him, Gibbs knew he couldn’t let it go any further, no matter how much he wanted it.

 

Only a shift of his weight and he’d touch him.

 

_You cannot do this, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You have no right._

Just one word, and Tony would be his.

 

_Do not touch him. Do. Not. Do. It_.

 

Gibbs swallowed hard and said gutturally, "Go wash up. Now. I need food."

 

For a long moment Tony didn't move. He then let out a long breath and stepped back, saying on a sigh, "Sure thing, Boss."

 

Gibbs listened to the splash of water from the hose from over by his parked truck. Only when the water turned off, did he dare look around. Tony was pulling his t-shirt over his head. There was a glimpse of his tanned stomach and then it was hidden from view. With the temptation out of sight, relief swept over Gibbs, but he knew that he was treading a very fine line. Deep down he was afraid of what he might do, if not today, then some day…some night.

 

How had this happened? How had his good intentions become so twisted that he would look at this young man with carnal intent, that all he wanted to do was hold Tony in his arms and never let him go? This was crazy, impulsive, not like him at all. No, he was Tony's mentor, his friend. The kid had put his trust in him when there was nobody else to turn to and now…now he was going to hurt him? Break that trust with one selfish move? No, Gibbs told himself he was stronger than that. He would not be tempted.

 

“You hungry? Burgers or pizza?” Gibbs asked, striving to be normal.

 

“Pizza would be good,” Tony replied.

 

They got in the truck and once they were moving, Tony turned to Gibbs. "I know you don't want to hear this, Gibbs, but we need to get something straight or else we're never gonna make it through the whole month together, and this is really important to me. You see…uh…I…"

 

No, he didn’t want to hear this, but he’d respect Tony enough to listen. "Spit it out, DiNozzo." Gibbs turned his head and saw a serious expression on Tony’s face.

 

Tony took a breath and said, "I think you should know what you're getting into with me. I’ve got this need, you see…I’m not proud of it, but I _have_ to have pepperoni and sausage _and_ extra cheese on my pizza, or else it just isn't right, and I get really cranky if my pizza isn't just as I like it."

 

Gibbs stared at Tony and then burst into laughter. It was from relief as much as a reaction to Tony’s sense of humor. So Tony wasn’t as oblivious to Gibbs’ feelings as he’d thought, and he’d chosen to diffuse the situation rather than avoid it. When Tony smiled at him, Gibbs’ heart took a little leap. He was just as determined as ever to keep their relationship platonic, but it looked like everything was going to be all right between them. "Sausage and pepperoni, it is then."

 

"And extra cheese. Don’t forget that," Tony said with a smile in his voice.

 

"And extra cheese," Gibbs agreed.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Tony ordered the pizza from his phone, and when it was delivered to the house, they sat on lawn chairs out on the deck. A few beers, and the knowledge that his wife wasn't going to be walking in on them, mellowed Gibbs somewhat. Okay, he felt guilty that he’d come up short as a husband, that he’d made her leave. But there was some relief, too, and even though that made Gibbs feel even more guilty, he put the bad feelings aside and concentrated on Tony, who was eating pizza and chattering away. Gibbs couldn't keep up with Tony's one-sided conversation, the way he was jumping from topic to topic as fast as a radio sportscaster covering a hot game.

 

Gibbs looked up at the starry night sky and wondered how long it would take to finish repairs to the boat. He just wanted to put her on the market so there'd be no more reminder of his soon-to-be ex-wife. Maybe this winter he'd start building a sailboat in his basement, one of those Amigo kits, a 22-footer. A man needs a hobby to take his mind off all the shit that comes with the job, and working with his hands was a whole hell of a lot more productive than sitting on his ass at the local bar night after night. He'd done enough of that after Shannon and Kelly were killed.

 

Ever since he'd started at NCIS it had been go, go, go, what with his short-lived marital bliss, that overseas op, and Mike Franks' constant push to bring dirtbags to justice. The job kept him on the run 'til late at night and this was the first time he’d been able to slow down and breathe. Franks didn't mind bending the rules if it got the job done but the director was usually worried about political repercussions. It was DC, after all. At least now that Pacci was on the team, Gibbs wasn't the probie any more. Now there was something to smile about.

 

When he could get a word in edgewise, Gibbs asked Tony, "What kind of markers did you have to cash in to get a whole month off your job?" Tony tensed and his ramblings came to an abrupt stop. It took a couple of seconds for Gibbs to realize he'd made an assumption that was apparently incorrect. Shit, rule number eight: never take anything for granted. "They _did_ give you leave, didn't they?"

 

Tony picked at the label on his beer bottle then stood abruptly. "Want another beer?"

 

Tony was up and heading into the house when Gibbs' voice stopped him cold. "Hey! Get the hell back here and tell me what's going on."

 

Tony did as he was told and slumped in the chair like a sullen teenager. He played with his empty beer bottle until Gibbs leaned over and lightly smacked the back of his head.

 

"Ow!" Tony stared in shock at Gibbs, touching the spot where he’d been struck. He said, in a defensive tone, "Okay! I'm not on leave. I left my job."

 

Gibbs told himself not to yell, that it wouldn't solve anything. He already regretted slapping Tony, especially since he knew how badly Tony had reacted to a perceived threat that time when Gibbs had gone to the frat house. Stupid, stupid, he thought. In a carefully controlled voice, Gibbs asked, "You quit a good job so you could laze around all summer, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony sat up straight and retorted, "After the paces you put me through today I wouldn’t exactly call it lazing, Gibbs. I'm willing to work. And why are you ready to assume the worst of me? Are you even going to give me a chance to explain?"

 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "So explain."

 

Tony sighed and gave in. "Okay, everything was going fine at the VA. I developed new adaptive sports programs, coached a wheelchair basketball team, and I even motivated some of the recent vets to join in but…" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "It was good and steady work but it just wasn't _enough_ , Gibbs. I kept thinking about the times I worked on mock crime scenes in my crime analysis class. I remembered the excitement when I was out in the field. Sure, there was a lot of dry stuff and statistics, but I _knew_ it was for me. That’s what I want to do."

 

When it became apparent that Gibbs wasn't going to come down on him, Tony leaned forward and said, "For as long as I remember my father's been telling me how my life was going to play out. He chose the career I was gonna have before I was even shaving, had me play with kids whose parents he thought I would need to know when I grew up. He had it all mapped out but I bucked him every chance I got. He signed me up for lacrosse, I played basketball. He arranged for me to take the daughter of some bigwig out on a fancy date; instead I took the chauffeur's daughter to a pool hall and we drank so much the cops picked us up on the way home – before I even got the car into second gear. Dad thought I was giving him a hard time just because I was going through a James Dean stage or something, but I always knew that everything he was planning for me was wrong. No way was I gonna work a desk job at DNZ Enterprises and keep my sanity. When I stuck to my guns and told him I wasn't going to follow his master plan, that I was going to OSU, and it finally sunk in that I meant what I said, he hit me so hard it loosened a couple of my teeth."

 

Gibbs understood what Tony was saying. He, too, had been at odds with his father, at first about going into the Marines fresh out of high school, and later over…well, they'd had friction over just about every choice Gibbs had ever made, except with his choice of a bride. Marrying Shannon was one thing that Jackson Gibbs had wholeheartedly agreed was a good thing. Except _his_ dad had ever struck him, not in anger, nor to bully him. Knowing that Tony's father had beaten his son gave Gibbs a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. How any parent could do that to a child was beyond him.

 

Being an NCIS special agent, working on important cases, figuring out complex crimes, going with his intuition and often finding himself to be right and putting criminals away – that was heady stuff.

 

"I'm going to be an investigator, Gibbs. I really want this. I want to be like _you_."

 

Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shit, nobody had ever before said they wanted to be like him. Even so, Tony was smart and had good instincts. So long as he wasn't heading down this road out of some misguided sense of hero-worship or some other bullshit, he'd probably be fine. Gibbs had a strong feeling that he was going to spend an awful lot of time worrying about Tony in the years to come, especially if he went into law enforcement. He had to ask, even though it was obvious what road Tony was going to take: "You're sure about this?"

 

Obviously relieved that his secret was now out in the open, Tony spoke enthusiastically. "I already passed the Peoria Police Department's entrance exam. I start training at the police academy in September, and they want me to work towards being a detective. My frat brother, Nate, he joined the Peoria PD last year, and after I realized I wasn't going to play pro ball, and I saw what he was doing…Look, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Gibbs.”

 

“You’re sure?” Gibbs asked, even though he knew the answer.

 

With a grin that lit up his entire face, Tony replied, “Sure.” At Gibbs’ encouragement, Tony talked about his career choice and the on-the-job experience that Peoria was offering, and Gibbs took it all in. The young man's spirit was invigorating but it made Tony appear so young. Or maybe, Gibbs thought, he was just feeling old in comparison. There were only fifteen years between them, but the difference in their experience made that chasm seem even wider.

 

When he had been just a little older than Tony, Gibbs was married with a kid on the way, and had done a tour overseas with his unit, so why was he having concerns about Tony becoming a cop? Tony was old enough, Gibbs told himself. Still, he worried. Maybe it was his own version of parental concern, that responsibility he felt for Tony, kicking in. It was natural to worry, but it was just as natural for Tony to make his own way in the world. "It sounds like you've got it all worked out, Tony."

 

"You know that list of phone numbers you gave me, Gibbs? In case I had any problems any time you were away?" He waited for Gibbs to nod and then said, "The week before I took the entry exam I called Dr. Mallard, because you weren't back yet from Bosnia. He was the only person I knew who was in the field, and I had to have a reference and…well, getting one from my father wasn't an option. I really needed to talk to someone and it couldn't wait and you weren't…"

 

Gibbs held up a hand to stem the flow of Tony's explanation. It sounded too much like an apology. "Hey, that's why I gave you his number. You did the right thing, talking to Ducky."

 

When Gibbs had returned from overseas, Ducky had told him about the younger man's call. The ME had described Tony as being a fine young man, "and not quite so frivolous as he would lead one to believe," Ducky had said perceptively. Ducky had gone on to assert that, in his opinion, DiNozzo Sr. deserved a whipping for what he'd done to the boy. "I had a long discussion with Anthony about his future, Jethro, and he seems to have a good head on his shoulders, although he does tend to go off on a tangent if he isn't reined in." Gibbs had stifled a laugh at that comment, especially coming from Ducky. "I suspect that with some discipline and guidance from an authority figure he'll mature quite nicely. If you want to know the particulars of our conversation, you will have to ask Anthony yourself," Ducky had said firmly. "I did promise him it would be confidential."

 

Gibbs had put off asking Tony about his talk with Ducky, and now he knew what it had been about. He only wished he could have been the one Tony had turned to for advice and assurance. Next time, he thought. "Ducky helped you sort things out?"

 

Tony nodded. "Yeah, he did. You've always been there for me, Gibbs, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Just knowing you are there if I need anything makes all the difference. I asked Dr. Mallard not to tell you about it because I…I wanted to wait until I earned my badge and then I was going to show it to you."

 

"I'm looking forward to that day, Tony," Gibbs said with a smile, touched that Tony looked up to him.

 

Tony rubbed his eyebrow. "Only once I got here I realized I couldn’t keep it from you. I just wasn't sure how to bring it up, but I was going to." Tony's eyes sought out reassurance from Gibbs. "So you think I can do this?"

 

"I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, Tony. Becoming a LEO might be a good fit for you. Thing is, there's a downside to law enforcement. Sure, you'll get the chance to catch some of the scumbags out there, to make a difference, but you'll see terrible things every day, some of 'em so bad they'll be imprinted in your brain forever. It can hit really close to home, screw you up bad. The stress of the job has messed up a lot of good cops whose only goal is to uphold the law, to do the right thing."

 

Tony shook his head, amused. "For a guy who supposedly can't communicate, you're doing pretty well, Gibbs." After Gibbs smiled and shook his head in denial, Tony sat back in his lawn chair and looked up at the night sky. "It's about helping people, catching the bad guys, sure, but for me it's also about solving the puzzle. Understanding what makes people tick, getting into in the details of the crime, figuring out the how as well as the why. I've never put it into words before but this just feels _right_. Magnum says that dreams are a sort of a private movie you write, produce and direct. Well, this is my dream. Guess that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to you though."

 

Actually, it did make sense, even with the _Magnum_ reference. "I get it, Tony. You're the only person who can control your destiny." And Tony was used to making his own choices, sticking to his guns. If he'd been able to stand up to his damned father all these years, he could handle anything. The kid surely would make a tenacious cop one day.

 

Tony grinned widely. "Yeah, that's it all right. You sure you haven't ever watched a _Magnum_ episode, Gibbs?"

 

"Nope, and I'm not going to." Gibbs believed in Tony, and that was a whole lot more than his father had ever done. Senior would eventually find out about his son's latest 'bad choice' and Gibbs was sure that Tony would weather the inevitable storm just fine. “I need you to promise me something, Tony.”

 

“Okay,” Tony said, looking a bit apprehensive.

 

“No secrets. I want you to tell me if you have a problem, or if you get in trouble. No hiding things because you’re afraid of my reaction. You need to be open with me, and I’ll always be there to help you. You understand?”

 

Tony nodded solemnly. “No secrets.”

 

Gibbs stood and reached out to shake Tony’s hand, but a second later Tony was on his feet and they were hugging. Even when Gibbs went to pull away, Tony wouldn’t let him go. Despite his misgivings, Gibbs raised a hand to the back of Tony’s head and held him there for a moment. Then with a playful slap, he leaned back and said, “Time to turn in.”

 

Tony released him, and yawned. "I'm beat anyway." They picked up the remains of their dinner and took it into the kitchen. "By the way, Boss, unless you want to eat beans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we need to buy some food. You want me to go shopping?"

 

"What's wrong with beans?" At Tony's look of horror, Gibbs smiled. "Just buy real food, Tony. Milk, eggs, meat, fruit. Get something green, but not peas. And no sugary cereal."

 

"God, you sound like a parent, Gibbs," Tony said in disgust. “Coffee, too?”

 

Gibbs snorted. "Of course. You can use my truck, but no hot-dogging. Think you can work on the boat on your own tomorrow? I'll join you at the marina after work if there's any light left."

 

"You trust me, Gibbs?" Tony wasn't just talking about working on the boat.

 

It was obvious Tony trusted him implicitly and Gibbs just hoped he wasn't going to let him down. "Yeah, I trust you, Tony. Just sand the hull, same as we did today, and then we'll start on the railings on deck. Tell you what, you can come in to work with me sometime this week. And we can get in some target practice at the range."

 

Tony's face lit up with pleasure. "Get the grand tour of NCIS? I can finally meet Ducky?"

 

Gibbs slung an arm around Tony’s shoulders. "Oh yeah. The NCIS morgue is a good place to start if you're gonna be an investigator, DiNozzo. A word of warning, don’t wear your good shoes."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Before he turned off the bedside lamp Tony slipped a single folded piece of paper out of an envelope that had 'DiNozzo' written across it in Gibbs' handwriting. He puffed up his pillows behind his head and once again read the note that Gibbs had left for him. He'd memorized the message by now but he still liked to see the actual writing, seeking to unlock the mystery that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the spare words and curling script. It seemed strange that the ex-Marine would have such nice handwriting; block letters seemed to be more in sync with his character. On the back of the paper was a concise map drawn in pencil, showing the way to the marina.

 

_Tony -_

_Bedroom upstairs at front of house is yours. Help yourself to food. Hands off the beer. Come to the marina. Map on back._

_Ducky says to say hi._

_Jethro_

Tony smiled about Gibbs saying this bedroom was his. His for the rest of the month, anyway. His smile grew even wider at Gibbs signing his first name, Jethro. Nice of Dr. Mallard to send a greeting, too.

 

Gibbs hadn't asked why Tony had chosen to apply to the Peoria PD rather than to a federal agency or NCIS. It would have been difficult to explain aloud, but Tony needed to do this on his own, without any hint of favoritism or undue influence. Contrary to most people's expectations, he did have a plan. It might not be the kind of plan that DiNozzo Sr. would approve of, but it was Tony's and he liked it.

 

Peoria was a good place to learn the basics and he'd liked the no-nonsense superintendent of the police force, who he had met as part of the interview process. The PPD was expanding their detective division and they worked closely with the police forces of three major cities within a two-hour drive. And what was best was that so long as Tony passed the training with high marks, and did well during the first six months as a rookie street officer, he was assured a spot in the criminal investigations division. He'd make Gibbs proud of him if it were the last thing he ever did. Detective Anthony DiNozzo. He smiled to himself.

 

After putting the note safely away, Tony turned off the light and settled down in the single bed. He went to sleep with a warm feeling in his heart and a smile on his face, all because one man had opened his home and his heart to him.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end chapter 9 ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

 

 


	10. Illusion

Spoilers: Up to 2011, Season 8, 8x14 - A Man Walks into a Bar  
This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x07, Broken Arrow

**Notes at end.**

**Final chapter…**

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

**Chapter 10 - Illusion**

Arlington, Virginia, 2010

 

_[Magnum](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Magnum): Every day in the tropics is part illusion; Rain clouds are actually rainbows ... the perfect wave breaks into a riptide ... conviction of immortality grows out of the endless summer. What I should have remembered is that illusion is always dangerous. But, on a perfect morning on the beach, who could remember fate?_

 

From the bedroom Gibbs listened for, and heard, the front door being slammed - hard - and then Tony's weary footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Gibbs, sitting in bed with his back against the headboard, book in hand, peered over his reading glasses to watch Tony stagger across the room in an exaggerated manner and then collapse on his side of their bed, face down.

 

Tony's groan was muffled by the bedding. "God give me strength."

 

With a sigh Gibbs put his book and eyeglasses aside and laid a hand on his lover's head. He ruffled Tony's short hair and smiled warmly at the back of his head. "Bad day at the office, honey?"

 

Tony turned his face to look scathingly at the older man. "The past _three days_ have been bad. How would you like it if your father was used as a front man to get in the door? How about if he upstages you by taking down the bad guy before you get the chance to rescue him?" Tony reached out and laid a heavy hand on Gibbs' thigh, and closed his eyes with a small moan. "All the way to the airport he kept harassing me to give him a pair of handcuffs. He says he wants to learn hand-to-hand combat. I mean, it's like he gets his rocks off on the danger or something."

 

Gibbs said unsympathetically, "Running towards the fire seems to run in your family, DiNozzo."

 

Tony opened his eyes to frown at Gibbs. "Hey! The difference is that I'm a trained agent and he's not. And what about the women? He's, what, pushing eighty? And there he was, scoring with every female in sight!"

 

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Hmm."

 

Tony propped up his head on one hand and demanded, "What the hell does that mean?"

 

"Sounds like you have something to look forward to when you're his age, Tony," Gibbs said in an offhand manner.

 

After a short pause, Tony said, "It's embarrassing, Gibbs. My father did the horizontal mambo with Hilda the hotel masseuse, as well as that prissy blond night concierge who cannot be more than twenty-one and, even if she's denying it, I know he screwed Ziva. There may have been more going on but I am _not_ asking."

 

"He screwed them all at the same time? Or isn't he telling?"

 

Tony rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "God, get the pictures outta my brain!" Then, with a deep sigh, he hauled himself off the bed and started to remove his suit, talking to Gibbs as he hung it in the closet. "Dad was asking me about how he could join NCIS, for Chrissake." Tony removed his shirt and socks and tossed them in the hamper, then stood in the doorway of the bathroom clad only in his boxer shorts, hands on his hips. "How would _he_ like it if I strolled into his office, or the office he used to have before he went bankrupt, and ogled the secretaries, used his computer without his permission, and made out with his former business partner who, despite being sixty, was a really good-looking guy along the lines of Harrison Ford, right down to that crooked smile. And you cannot tell me that Jack Brewster doesn't swing both ways, and that Dad doesn't know about it." He took a deep breath and pulled at his hair, saying, "Hell, now I'm talking like Abby!" Tony pivoted and went back into the bathroom, muttering to himself.

 

"Thinking of trading places with your old man, Tony?" Gibbs, who knew what Harrison Ford looked like, did not like the idea that Tony was looking his father's former business partner _in that way_. He wondered, with some discomfort, if DiNozzo Sr. was a switch-hitter and had passed bisexual traits down to his son. Gibbs would never ask Tony about his suspicion.

 

"Trade places with him? God no! I like my monogamous life too much, thank you very much." Tony somehow managed to talk while brushing his teeth. "You shoulda seen him at the airport, Jethro, telling Trump about how he wrestled Mayfield to the ground." There was the sound of running water and then Tony stuck his head out with a worried expression and said hesitantly, "I wasn't using monogamous to mean boring, Jethro, because I love everything about our life together, and I love you, and…You know what I meant, right?"

 

Gibbs raised a hand to stop Tony from continuing in the same vein. "I know, Tony." It looked like he was going to have a difficult time calming his partner down. They'd be lucky to get any sleep that night.

 

Tony nodded and went back into the bathroom, starting up about his father once more, raising his voice so Gibbs could hear him. Gibbs listened patiently while Tony complained, responding with an occasional grunt to prove he wasn't asleep. The toilet flushed and then finally Tony joined him in bed. Without saying anything, Gibbs watched Tony settle into bed and pull the covers up to cover his naked chest. Eventually the younger man's soliloquy spluttered and came to an end.

 

Tony caught Gibbs eyeing him with a bemused look on his face. He asked abruptly, "What?"

 

"Nothing. Just waiting."

 

"Sorry, but I'm still a little steamed, okay?"

 

"All done now?"

 

Tony said, somewhat belligerently, "For the moment. Why?"

 

Gibbs turned off the light and then rolled towards Tony, draping his leg and arm across his lover's body to hold him close. "Because I've wanted to do this to you ever since you walked in, you idiot." Gibbs kissed his lover softly and reassuringly at first, but the moment that Tony uttered a surprised, "Oh," Gibbs intensified the kiss. Tony closed his eyes halfway and opened his mouth to accept Gibbs' plundering tongue but he didn't return the kiss with his usual fervor. When Gibbs withdrew a little it was to check out Tony, whose entire body was radiating tension. "Why are you still so wound up?"

 

"I've been a little crazy the last couple of days. It's hard to relax." Tony looked away, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Okay, I've been more than a little crazy." He shifted in discomfort from the way he was being studied, but Gibbs had him pinned in place by the weight of his body. Feeling unaccountably ready to jump out of his skin, Tony said worriedly, "I don't know what's wrong with me…I'm sorry."

 

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you." Gibbs caressed the side of Tony's face and ran his thumb across his cheekbone, wishing he could smooth the tense lines away from around Tony's eyes. He said gently yet firmly, "You need to come down a little, Tony." Tony swallowed and looked at him questioningly, so Gibbs spelled it out. "I know you've had a couple of tough days but--" Tony opened his mouth to interrupt but Gibbs forestalled him with a kiss. Once more Gibbs pulled back. He said, "You need to slow down. Just relax and let it all go away." He didn't take his eyes off Tony's face, and the instant Tony wriggled and began to talk, Gibbs settled another kiss on his mouth.

 

With his lips pressed against Gibbs', Tony mumbled, "Don' think I can…"

 

Gibbs ran his hand through Tony's hair and gently clasped the back of his neck. "Yes you can. I'm going to help you. You trust me?" He adjusted his position so he was straddled atop the younger man.

 

Tony inhaled raggedly and gave a small nod. "Of course…yes…"

 

With most of his weight resting on Tony, their bodies meeting from thigh to chest, Gibbs could feel the man lying under him quiver as he resisted submission. "Just let it go. I'm here to catch you."

 

"Gibbs…please," Tony begged. He raised his hands to push at Gibbs' chest, but there was no power behind his action.

 

"Let it all go, Tony." Gibbs kissed him again, slowly, his tongue working its way slowly across Tony's lower lip and then pressuring him for entry. Tony returned the kiss with more passion and after a little while Gibbs withdrew just enough to assure him, "He's gone and it's over."

 

"It's never over," Tony moaned on a sigh. Gibbs' mouth slid away from his lips to explore the soft flesh underneath his jaw, sucking lightly, and Tony raised his chin to give him better access.

 

Gibbs returned his attention to Tony's mouth again, and taking his lower lip between his teeth he tugged at it a little as a means of distraction. "Push all the bad stuff out and close the door on it," Gibbs urged, his tone soft and encouraging. "You can do it. We've practiced this before, right?"

 

Tony gazed up at Gibbs, blinking as he struggled to comply. His lower lip was pink and trembling slightly, his eyes unsure. "Okay, I'm closing the door."

 

"Lock it, bar the door and come towards me." Gibbs shifted his weight and braced himself over Tony, trapping him between his strong arms. He watched Tony's expression carefully, hoping the therapist's advice would work. Every doubt and fear seemed to emanate from Tony's eyes, and then there was comprehension and resolve. Even though they'd tried the technique a couple of times, Tony had never been so wound up before. "You can do it."

 

Tony closed his eyes for a couple of minutes and then he reopened them and offered Gibbs a small smile. "Okay, it's done," he whispered. "I'm here. Kiss me again?" His arms wrapped around Gibbs and drew him down for a kiss, angling his head and sucking at his tongue insistently. He reached between their bodies and rapidly rubbed his palm back and forth across Gibbs' genitals, jerking his hips and panting with the effort.

 

"Whoa there. Shhh, take it easy. There's plenty of time." Gibbs held Tony's hands until he desisted, then moved his hips in a slow circle, feeling the heat of Tony's hardening cock through the thin layers of clothing that separated them. He fumbled to slide Tony's boxers down his legs, and then pushed his own underwear away just as Tony clutched at Gibbs' undershirt and pulled it up. There was a tangle of hands and knees and clothing, and finally they were both naked and laughing, but best of all, Tony no longer had that hint of strain about his eyes that he'd had for the entire time his father had been in town.

 

"You'd think we'd be more elegant at stripping, with all the practice we've had," Tony said breathlessly.

 

"Guess we need to practice some more then." They moved so they faced each other, only inches apart. Gibbs ran his hand across the younger man's chest, gently squeezing his pectoral muscles, fingering the rosy-brown nipples. Tony let out a small gasp; his nipples were very sensitive and hardened into little nubs at the slightest suggestion of a touch. "You're so beautiful, my handsome boy," Gibbs said in a deep, seductive voice. Every stroke across the lightly tanned skin was meant to soothe rather than arouse. Gibbs followed each caress of his hands with a tender kiss. Slowly Tony relaxed under the gentle and erotic touches.

 

Gibbs smoothed Tony's dark chest hair then scraped his nails across the underlying skin the opposite direction. Tony had a lot more chest hair when he first knew him, Gibbs recalled. "I remember that summer when you worked with me on my boat, how innocent you were, how jealous I was when you talked to girls down at the marina. How you never wore a shirt and your back was so brown, your skin so silky. Your jeans were hanging so low off your hips I could see the white of your underwear. Made my mouth water."

 

"I knew you were watching," said Tony with a teasing smile.

 

Gibbs ducked his head and admitted, "I kept finding jobs for you to do so you'd have to bend over."

 

That made Tony laugh. "And there I was wondering what I could do to make you want me. Neither of us was so innocent."

 

"I wanted to touch you so bad…Half the time I couldn’t face you, couldn’t let you see how just being near you, smelling you, turned me on. God, it was hard. I couldn’t…" He swallowed. "For months after you left, every time I smelled sawdust I had a hard-on."

 

Tony grinned in self-satisfaction at Gibbs' admission. "Is _that_ why you like to work with wood, Jethro?" Gibbs smiled wickedly in reply and sucked on one of Tony's nipples, rolling the other one between his finger and thumb, eliciting little cries of excitement. "Want more," Tony panted. "Touch me here…" Tony tried to push Gibbs' hand lower, impatient and needy, but when Gibbs made no move to touch his genitals, Tony fisted his own cock.

 

Gibbs wrapped his fingers around Tony's wrist and forced his hand to his side. When Tony resisted with a protesting whine, Gibbs squeezed his wrist and ordered in a low voice, "Do not touch yourself." He only released him when Tony gave in. Trailing his fingers across the younger man's inner thigh, Gibbs smiled at the wanton way Tony moaned and rolled onto his back, raising one leg in encouragement. "Greedy," Gibbs said lovingly. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He fondled Tony's heavy balls and watched him squirm, smiling at the way his eyes closed in response to the torment, the way his mouth released those little sounds that were not quite whimpers, not yet moans. This is how he loved to see his younger lover, rubbing his hips back and forth on the sheets in an agony of unfulfilled desire, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his cock dark and veined with droplets of pre-come beading on the tip. It dripped onto Gibbs' leg and a jolt of arousal at the sight and smell caused his cock to harden and thicken, to push at Tony's thigh as if it had a mind of its own.

 

Still, Gibbs resisted touching Tony's hard and leaking cock. Instead he ran his hands across the younger man's muscled rear and up his back, exerting pressure across his ribs and chest, thumbs sliding across his nipples. Gibbs' work-roughened hands glided down Tony's arms to bring the tips of his long, tapered fingers to his mouth to lick and suck. He made love to Tony with alternately hard and whisper-soft caresses of hands and lips accompanied by suckling and mouthing his warm, inviting skin. God, just the taste of Tony's skin was enough to get a rise out of him. Gibbs slid down in the bed and languorously licked along the tender flesh of Tony's belly to the juncture of his hip and leg, and down to nuzzle at the heated, musky skin of his inner thigh.

 

Heeding Gibbs' order not to touch himself, Tony reached instead for Gibbs, pulling his hair, grasping at his arms and shoulders, moaning and encouraging him to touch him there, down there, until finally he was rewarded with a fist wrapping around his velvety shaft and Gibbs' tongue sliding across the head and delving into his slit. Tony's hips jerked in response, bucking with desire, a litany of pleas falling from his lips. "Oh God, oh God, oh God…"

 

Then Gibbs was lying face-to-face with him once again, his eyes dark and intense. They kissed, exploring and fulfilling their mutual need, wonderful and wet with tongues and teeth and lips engaging in expert play. Suddenly Gibbs' fingers were inside of Tony, two to start with, slicked up and plundering his all-too ready entrance. They stroked and plunged and twisted, rubbing across his sweet spot until Tony gasped and arched his back in pleasure. His fingers bit into Gibbs' muscled shoulders, bracing himself as he moved his hips, fucking himself and crying out for more. Tony reached between his legs to hold onto Gibbs' wrist, to ensure those fingers didn't have any chance to retract.

 

Gibbs kissed him, open-mouthed and rough, his tongue demanding, taking. Tony made a distressed sound when Gibbs withdrew his fingers and pushed him flat onto his back. With sure motions, Gibbs lubed his heavy dark cock, prodded Tony's legs into position and mounted him without hesitation in a long, slow slide that brought a gasp from his lover's open mouth.

 

Tony moved his hips encouragingly, almost shouting as he cried, "Damn it, Gibbs, move, just do it! Fuck me!"

 

Gibbs braced himself with hands on Tony's hipbones, his grip firm, and pulled back a little before thrusting his cock back into his lover's writhing body. The next time he withdrew a little further and his penetration into Tony's pliant body was deeper and harder. Again and again he pumped, changing the angle and the speed but never letting up on the assault on Tony's body until, with a final shudder, he came.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Gibbs needed to hear Tony moan and whimper and shout when they had sex, as evidence that the way he plundered his body, in a far from gentle manner, was wholeheartedly embraced. Sometimes, when Gibbs lost himself in the physical act of fucking, and they both knew damned well that this was _not_ making love, his last vestige of control would shred and he'd be torn apart from the inside out. It was only after he reached his peak and ejaculated, when he finally came back to earth and his heavy breathing slowly evened out, when his brain began to function once more in fits and starts like an old engine that needs coaxing to come back to life in cold weather, that Gibbs fully understood how unrestrained he had been.

 

As for Tony, he never said a word about how rough Gibbs had been. He'd merely wrap the older man in his loving arms to show he totally accepted everything that Gibbs had meted out, treating their joining as if it was a gift of immense value. Gibbs concluded that maybe Tony wanted, or _needed_ , in some twisted way, to feel the punishing blows, to be taken down by his partner's carnal need. It didn't reduce Gibbs' feelings of guilt, but if this was what they both needed, the unmerciful give and take, then they were lucky to have each other.

 

Initially when Gibbs had realized what was going on, he had tried to avoid penetrating his lover as a way to spare him from harm. That hadn't lasted long. Gibbs reasoned that there was no need to practice anal sex when they both derived more than enough pleasure from making love in alternate ways, but Tony didn't agree. "It's not enough. I'm not complete unless I feel you inside of me," Tony insisted. In the end, as always, Gibbs gave in, unable to deny Tony what he wanted.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

Gibbs' chin jabbed into the muscle of Tony's shoulder as he shoved hard one more time and came, crying out, "Tony!" He always shouted Tony's name, even if he didn't remember doing it afterwards. He knew this because Tony, with a smirk on his face, would tell him about it later on, proud that even in a sexed-up, oblivious state, Gibbs knew whose ass he was driving his dick into.

 

Gibbs lay beside him, overcome, wet with semen and sweat and Tony's tears. He used a corner of the sheet to wipe the moisture off Tony's face. "Oh Tony," he whispered, unable to say anything more.

 

The younger man turned his head on the pillow, his mouth puffy and red from Gibbs' kisses, his eyes heavily lidded, and he smiled.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

After he'd cleaned Tony up, and then himself, Gibbs pulled out fresh tees and shorts for them to sleep in. When it appeared that Tony wasn't in any state to move a muscle, Gibbs coerced him into a sitting position and supported him while he helped him dress in clean clothes. Soon they were settled under the covers, warm and relaxed, with Tony leaning back against Gibbs as if he was a cushion, and Gibbs stroking one hand up and down his lover's arm in slow, calming strokes. Tony was quiet, quieter than usual, so Gibbs looked down at him and asked, "Hey, you okay?"

 

With a nod Tony captured Gibbs' hand and hugged it to his chest. "I don't look forward to being his age, you know," he said quietly.

 

Gibbs' tried and failed to see what Tony was referring to. "What do you mean?"

 

Tony offered a slight, nonchalant shrug that suggested quite the opposite emotion was playing out in his brain. "Being eighty."

 

Gibbs understood but was not about to ruin the mood by speaking Tony's father's name aloud. Instead he asked cautiously, "Why not?"

 

After a long pause Tony shrugged again. "You'd be ninety-two."

 

Unable to suppress a chuckle, Gibbs replied without thinking, "I doubt I'll live to be that old, Tony."

 

Tony turned in Gibbs' arms and laid his cheek to his chest. "However old you live to be, Jethro, I won't live a day longer."

 

Realizing what Tony was saying, Gibbs' heart went out to him. They both knew the likelihood of either or both of them being taken out in the line of duty was pretty high but they never spoke about it. It wasn't something Gibbs dwelled upon, but the thought of living without Tony in his arms, in his bed, in his life brought a sharp pain to his chest, unexpected in its severity. Holding Tony close, Gibbs laid a kiss on his temple. "Me either, babe. Me either."

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

 

As Gibbs went to sleep that night, he thought back to the summer they’d spent together working on his boat. Tony had been amusing and generous, smart and mouthy, and sometimes so hurt and vulnerable that it made Gibbs’ heart ache to watch him struggling with his demons. Tony may have matured, but he hadn’t lost any of those endearing qualities of his youth. He still had his share of problems, anxiety and guilt, usually over things he had little to no control over – hell, they both did. Being there for Tony was all that mattered to Gibbs. Tony needed him more than he’d often admit, but Gibbs needed him right back, probably even more than Tony did.

 

They’d known each other for almost 20 years now; they’d been together, been close for all that time. He remembered that night before Tony left for the police academy…God, that was back in ’93…seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d been tense all day, so uptight at the thought of Tony leaving, so fucking _angry_ , that Tony had told him to chill at one point. Gibbs laughed a little at that, Tony telling him what to do. And then Tony had looked at him in a sad way that just tore at Gibbs’ heart.

 

He’d lost it right then and there, had grabbed Tony and pushed him against the kitchen counter, hesitating only for a moment, until Tony’s surprise at the swift, harsh move changed, and he relaxed in Gibbs’ grip. “Do it,” Tony had challenged, his expression bold, and then they kissed. They didn’t stop there. Gibbs was like a man possessed, and Tony, well, he wasn’t exactly submissive. He let Gibbs know what he liked and what he wanted, and they ended up in the spare room bed with Gibbs fucking Tony until he screamed.

 

Of course Gibbs felt guilty afterwards, which made Tony so angry at him for feeling that guilt, that they quarrelled even before they made it out of bed. But Tony, being Tony, had found their anger humorous, and he started laughing and asked, “How crazy is this? Like we didn’t both want it.”

 

That had Gibbs smiling, reluctantly, because he’d never experienced anything like this before, and didn’t quite know what to do with it. But Tony knew, and for all the young man’s inexperience with men, he had a way about him that made it all seem natural and good. Gibbs gave in eventually, and Tony made love to him, showing him how to slow down and enjoy what they had together.

 

Things were never smooth sailing between them. They had plenty of ups and downs over the years. There were a couple of times when they split up, with terrible shouting matches, swearing they’d never touch each other again. Of course that never stood for long. Tony loved him, through thick and thin, and he wasn’t shy about reminding Gibbs that he felt that way, and to “stop being such an uptight ass, Jethro, and get over here and kiss me.” Yeah, that was his Tony, pushing forward when things got tough. And Gibbs always obeyed – willingly, lovingly, thankfully – knowing that they would, as Tony had once said, be on each other’s sixes, for always and forever.

 

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ end ~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~ 

 **Note** \- I intended to continue writing this episodic story, but so much time has passed that I know now that I won’t add to it. So I added a wrap-up ending, and slightly edited some of the earlier chapters to bring more slash into the ‘early days’ chapters. I am now marking it as _Complete_.

 **P.S.** \- There is also a Gen version of this story, an edited, pared-down version called “Road Trip.” It follows Tony when he was in college and met Gibbs, and how they came to care for each other in a father/son way. I wrote it for a fanzine and you can find it here at fanfiction.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
